Somewhere Between Nothing and Everything
by myotherlife
Summary: Federal prosecutor Bella Swan is already standing on the precipice of a dark abyss when her world is thrown into madness. Struggling for a lifeline, the reemergence of a man she vowed never to trust again will change everything. Life and death. Love and hate. In the middle of obscurity, what is the cost of redemption? Banner by: Fallingsnow Winter
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Hi and welcome to my new story! It's a BPOV, E/B romance (HEA), all human, crime drama, with some angsty flavor thrown into the mix. I love twists, turns, and building the suspense. So, don't expect things to be revealed all at once, or everything to be as it appears. ;) **

**Warnings: This story deals with themes of depression, and will include descriptions of violence.**

****I own nothing that has to do with the wonderful creation that is twilight. All rights belong to Stephanie Meyer. I am not associated with the franchise and no copyright infringement is intended. I am just thankful for the chance to play with the characters a bit. The original aspects of this story belong to me.****

****Thank you to my betas TDS88 and beautifulnightmarex for their support and help.  
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****This is just a teaser, other chapters will be longer. I hope you enjoy it. ****

Somewhere Between Nothing and Everything

Prologue

_"The truth is always an abyss. One must – as in a swimming pool – dare to dive from the quivering springboard of trivial everyday experience and sink into the depths, in order to later rise again – laughing and fighting for breath – to the now doubly illuminated surface of things."_

_Franz Kafka_

* * *

><p>A long forgotten rhyme repeats over and over in my mind as I take in the chaotic scene. The haunted and child-like voices that accompany the echoing words only add to the already unbearable pounding in my head.<p>

_Three, six, nine_

_The goose drank wine_

_The monkey chewed tobacco on the streetcar line_

_The line, it broke_

_The monkey got choked_

_And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat. _

My ears ring painfully with a high-pitched tone, and there is a strange sort of pressure all around me. Almost as if I am underwater, which makes no sense because I am standing on land. In my mind's eye, everything moves paradoxically fast and slow all at the same time. My distorted vision and hearing makes it difficult to navigate my next move. If I even have a next move.

I wish my dad were here to tell me what to do. His brilliant mind would easily calculate a solution. He was always my hero, especially after we lost my mom. He made my world better, and I take a small bit of comfort in the fact that I will probably see him soon.

Why is it that the brightest lights are the ones that always fade away too quickly?

Seeing nothing that will change my current predicament, I once again focus on the gun pointed directly at me. With everything that has happened recently, it seems fitting that I will die at the hands of someone I trusted. I almost laugh at the true irony of the situation.

For a moment, I can't help but marvel at how clearly I can see down the barrel of the gun. As if, my eyes can perceive every detail and nuance. I wonder if I will see the bullet or just the flash as it escapes the hole.

The world slows, the clock ticking one excruciating second at a time as I watch the finger wrapped around the trigger curl and tighten.

All is still.

All is quiet.

_BANG!_

**Chapter one will be posting shortly. See you soon. :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome back! For anyone following me from HOD, thank you for being willing to go on another journey. I hope you enjoy the ride. **

**A huge thank you to everyone who helped me to get my head wrapped around the best way to start this. LostIn PA is amazing and helped to re-work long and awkward sentences. Beautifulnightmarex generously read this several times, and TDS88, not only read it a couple of times, but also gave it one final look. All of their support was invaluable. However, I have a bad habit of tweaking things before posting, so all mistakes are mine.  
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**I own nothing, but the original plot points belong to me. **

**Okay, let the games begin... **

Chapter One: Chill in the Air

_ "No one can tell what goes in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't." _

_Steven King_

* * *

><p><em>Before…<em>

Standing on the front stoop, my body shakes in frustration as the dreaded echo of grinding metal fills the night air around me. Of course, tonight of all nights, the key has decided to jam, hindering my ability to lock the front door and leave.

"Son of a bitch!"

The noise is an irritating reminder to replace the lock, and I can't help but berate myself for not having done it sooner. Even with my constantly spinning mind, I usually pride myself on being an organized person. Recently though, the daunting list of tasks to complete has almost become overwhelming. I should just stop procrastinating, and replace the uncooperative thing before I end up smashing it with a sledgehammer. Yet, somehow, the minimal task feels insurmountable.

"Stop being ridiculous, it's just a fucking lock."

Deep down, I know my "forgetfulness" is an exercise in avoidance. Once, I had a partner to help with such undertakings. Changing the lock will force me to face the hollow feelings I've successfully circumvented thus far. In all honesty, I'm just not ready for that.

_"You're stronger than this, Bells. Things don't have to be this difficult." _My father's voice drifts into my scattered thoughts. Robotically, I push it away and focus my irritation on the tangible object in front of me.

"God damn it," I mutter, wrestling with the key.

My shoulders tighten as I jiggle it harder, fighting the childish desire to scream and stomp my feet in defeat when it refuses to cooperate. Realizing that my approach is getting me nowhere, I release my frustrated grip on the knob and take a calming breath. Exhaling loudly, I _finally_ manipulate the key into place and turn the lock without too much more of a hassle. Stuffing the key into my pocket, I close my eyes and hope that this latest debacle is not a sign of the night to come.

On the back-end of several horrible months, this week has particularly sucked. My computer crashed, I was late submitting a brief, lost an important argument in court, and to top it all off, it was my turn as "Officer of the Week", which equates to endless annoying phone calls. My intention was to put this crappy week behind me by spending a quiet weekend at home preparing for a crucial meeting. But, after reading the same sentence ten times in a row and still not remembering what it said, I decided to take my friends up on their offer to attend a concert instead.

Unconsciously, I tilt my head to the sky looking for strength, but quickly stop, laughing at the pointlessness of such a gesture. "You're a fool," I mutter reminding myself that I don't believe in a higher power anymore.

A loud crunching sound from the nearby hedge swiftly draws my attention away from the morose thought. Swinging around, I look for the source of the noise, but unfortunately, the height of the hedge makes it difficult to see anything on the other side. Hearing it again, I peer into the darkness trying to identify the shadows on the sidewalk.

"Hello?" I call out, listening closely for any other sounds.

Standing quietly for several uneventful seconds, I decide that my overtaxed mind is just playing tricks on me. It was probably a mouse or a squirrel moving through the branches of the hedge and nothing more. Scoffing at my overactive imagination, I hastily adjust my scarf and decide to get going.

Walking briskly along the street, the sensations of the city envelop me. I revel in the way the damp night air feels as it caresses my skin, and enjoy the aromas wafting out of the various restaurants as I pass them by. The fog rolling in from the bay gives the street lamps a muted, almost ghostly glow, lighting my way through the encroaching darkness. While the sounds of the far off car horns and sirens are almost comforting in their normalcy, a constant that rarely changes.

I love San Francisco. Even though I've enjoyed living in several different cities, I knew this was my home as soon as I stepped foot on the well-traveled cement of Union Square. The organic, earthy energy of it seems to soothe my soul, like listening to smooth jazz on a warm summer's day. Even on my most stressful days, that energy usually helps to ground me.

Tonight, however, the city is no match for my frenzied state of mind. As I turn the corner towards the Fillmore, instead of the calming feelings that usually embrace me, my muscles painfully clench when images of abandoned paperwork on my dining room table, and legal documents left unopened bombard my thoughts. Rationally, I know taking a break will make me more effective, but somehow that knowledge doesn't quiet the voice telling me to go back home.

Stopping abruptly on the sidewalk, I contemplate just turning around. My actions unintentionally cause a traffic jam for the people walking behind me, and several grumble their annoyance as they pass by. Barely registering their discontent, my eyes drift to a group of six friends walking across the street. Almost bouncing with light steps, they laugh and playfully nudge each other. The happiness I see reflected on their faces helps to determine my path. I want to feel that again. Biting my lip, I gather my courage and force myself to keep moving forward.

A tiny smile breaks free when I think about how my friends will react when they see me. My arrival will shock them. Lately, their invitations, although continuous, are simply a loving gesture. Months of turning them down or finding excuses to cancel at the last minute have left them expecting me not to show up anymore. I love them, but it is often easier to evade their good intentions of trying to fix the broken pieces of my life.

"Work and avoid" is a constant theme running through my life these days. Probably not the mantra you would find on a motivational poster, but for now it is the only thing that keeps me going. Life has shown me that I can't rely on other people to make me whole. I have to do that all on my own.

* * *

><p><em>"It's definitely a nice neighborhood. You sure you can afford this swanky townhouse on your newbie salary?" he asks with a sarcastic smile. <em>

_After looking for a more permanent home over the last several months, I finally found the perfect place in the Lower Pacific Heights neighborhood. It has all the features I want including being close to work, but the area makes it a pricey choice. His benign question embarrasses me. Most people don't know about my financial background. _

_"I, uh, still have my mom's insurance money. It will actually cover most of it." I look down at my shoes nervously. He knows my mom died when I was eleven, but we haven't really spoken about it in much detail. _

_His finger glides under my chin to lift my eyes to his. They are burning with sympathy and regret. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"_

_"Oh no, I'm okay." I say quickly realizing he mistook my embarrassment for sadness. I will always miss my mom, but time and my dad have helped me to move past the pain of her death. "It's just not something I discuss often." Smiling reassuringly, I grab his hand intertwining his fingers with mine. "Want to help me look for furniture?" I ask changing to a breezier topic. _

_Lifting our hands, he lightly kisses my knuckles. "Lead on, Ms. Swan, but if you're going to ask me to help you move, you should know that I charge by the hour," he jokes. _

_"Oh really?" Reaching up on my tiptoes to kiss his mouth briefly, I ghost my hand down his chest, his breath predictably hitching as I travel closer to his belt and slightly tug on it. "I think we can probably work something out, don't you?" I whisper seductively against his lips. _

_Before he can capture my lips again, I pull away and wink, his eyes narrowing in response. Flirtatiously shrugging my shoulders at his "what the hell" look, I simply turn and lead us back to my car. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him pouting as he begrudgingly follows. He is so incredibly gorgeous, it's hard to force myself to continue walking with the way he makes my body tingle. _

_It is amazing that fate brought us together. Everything I ever wanted walked right into my world the day we met, and there is no way I am taking that for granted._

* * *

><p>"Arrgghhh!" I yell out, causing a few people walking on the sidewalk next to me to stare worriedly.<p>

I should have expected that he would invade my head tonight. Clenching my fists, I can't help but wonder how long it will take him to fade from my consciousness. Lord knows, it is already longer than it took him to vanish from my life. The thing that really pisses me off is that his memory is coming up a lot lately. I'm never going to move forward if I allow myself to think that having _him_ here would make things easier.

_I need a drink_.

Fortuitously, the desire for alcohol occurs just as I arrive at the historic building where I can fulfill it. Weaving my way through the masses on the busy sidewalk, I pull out my pass for tonight's show. Focused on my goal of the front door, I completely miss the broad-shouldered man moving in my direction until he slams into me. The force of the collision jars my body, causing me to lose my footing, and before I can react, I fall awkwardly on my ass. The incident leaving me more stunned than hurt.

"Damn it!" I yell, trying to rub away the burning sensation in my palms, the skin slightly raw from taking the brunt of the impact. "This is just perfect."

"I'm sorry," a gruff voice says above me.

Looking up, I see dark eyes staring down. The intensity on his face does not match the sincerity he is trying to portray in his voice. He reaches out his hand to help me up, but for some reason, the usually friendly gesture causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. My instincts are screaming not to touch him. Instead of using his offered hand, I get up on my own and step away from the stranger.

"That's okay. Accidents happen," I respond, my voice tight and strained.

"The least I can do is buy you a drink or something. What do you say?" he asks pointing towards a small bar across the street. He takes a step closer, and in return, I step back.

"That's really okay. I'm already late. My friends are probably going to send out the cavalry soon," I lie with a measured laugh. I want him to believe that people know where I am.

"You sure?" he asks. I nod my head wanting to end the conversation. "Well, maybe we'll run into each other again," he says cryptically, his watchful eyes running up and down my body.

"Um, highly unlikely. Have a good night though," I say dismissively.

Turning around, I walk quickly towards the door. Subtly glancing behind, I shudder as the man continues to stare at me. I'm not sure why I'm having such a strong reaction to him, but I do know I never want to run into the creepy stranger again. A wall of heat hits me once I cross the threshold of the Fillmore, the outside chill rapidly disintegrating in the sea of humanity inside. Looking over my shoulder again, I release a breath when I no longer see the man. Shoving the strange encounter out of my mind, I focus on trying to enjoy the evening.

Moving further into the room, I uncoil my scarf and shrug out of my jacket, holding both close to my chest to squeeze past a particularly crowded area. Looking around, I feel a sense of happy nostalgia, the stress of the evening easing a bit. The old town architecture with a modern flare of indie rock decorations combined with the slight scent of Agarwood incense makes the place feel cozy and welcoming. This is one of my favorite hangouts, and it has been too long since my last visit.

Glancing to the right, I see hundreds of bodies mingling on the floor in front of the stage, and I can feel the energy building as Washed Out's roadies methodically tune each instrument. Everyone seems at ease and happy. Scanning the room, my eyes focus on several couples being affectionate with whom, I assume, are their significant others.

The sight gives me pause, stirring a longing I try to ignore. A startling flash of emerald eyes and loving arms turn my stomach to ice. The last thing I need are more unwanted memories adding to this already strained outing. Pushing the image away, I reprimand myself for allowing _him_ to affect me twice in one night.

Maneuvering over to the poster room, I quickly spot the familiar faces of my friends sitting and laughing around a small table next to a colorfully decorated wall. They are obviously enjoying the evening and each other. The visual makes me smile.

My friends have always been a big part of my life. In fact, spending time with them was my daily "therapy", but somewhere over the last the few months that has changed. Now, what was once my stress reliever, feels exhausting. It's something that I battle with every day. A part of me realizes that I'm pushing them away, and they are getting frustrated with my behavior, but I can't seem to stop doing it.

"Holy shit! Bella's here!" Jasper, my partner at work, yells across the room causing several people to turn in my direction.

Acknowledging him with a wave of my hand, I quickly walk over before he causes an even bigger scene. I lovingly refer to Jasper as my "work husband" because we tend to spend a lot of time together preparing our cases. Not to mention that we often argue like an old married couple in the office. Our close relationship is hard for many to comprehend, which is why it's a good thing that his _actual_ wife is my best friend.

Reaching the table, I walk straight into his waiting arms. "I'm so glad you made it," he whispers against my temple.

Breathing in his brotherly comfort, I squeeze tighter, feeling relaxed for the first time tonight. _Why do I run from this?_ Before I can tell him that I'm happy to see him too, I feel a smack to the back of my head.

"Hey," I huff in annoyance, turning towards the smiling face of Rosalie Hale.

Rose is the one of the brightest and toughest FBI agents I have ever met, as well as one of my closest friends. She is impeccably dressed in dark blue jeans and a green sweater with her long blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. As usual, she looks like she just walked out of a fashion magazine and I can't help but feel inferior in comparison. I pull nervously at my own worn sweater, suddenly rethinking the quick pick I made when rushing out of the house. Rose quirks her eyebrow, and I quickly neutralize my expression before she questions it. I know she would kick my ass if she knew about my self-deprecating thoughts.

"What the hell, Swan? Did hell freeze over when I wasn't looking?" she asks, eyeing me up down trying to act harsh, but failing miserably in her buzzed state as her lips break into an uncontrollable smile.

"Stuff it. Even_ I_ can go out every once in a while." I smile back sweetly, purposely not reacting to her attempt at a severe tone. "What are you drinking?" I ask peering into her glass.

"Mojito. Why? Do you want one?" she questions in disbelief.

"_Yes_!" I yell a little too enthusiastically.

Rose raises her eyebrow. "Okaaay," she draws out. I'm really not much of a drinker and she knows it. I'm sure this will just add to my friends growing list of concerns. "Let me text Emmett to get you one. He's getting refills at the bar," she mutters, pulling out her phone to quickly type out a message. "He's going to flip when he hears that you're here."

Emmett McCarty is a San Francisco PD homicide detective, and Rose's long-time boyfriend. Glancing towards the bar, I can easily spot his tall and muscular body in the crowd. Emmett has always been a bit of an enigma. Although his impressive size and confident presence scares most people, he actually is nothing more than a huge heart with a warm sappy center.

"_Bella_!" I hear as a small ball of energy tackles me from the side. "You're here!" Alice, Jasper's wife, shrieks into my ear as I try to recover my balance before we both topple over.

If Jasper is my partner in crime at work, Alice is my partner in crime in life. The yin to my yang is how my dad described our friendship because even with our many differences we still somehow balance each other out.

"Hi," I say, tightening our embrace.

"I'm so glad you're here." She pulls back rewarding me with a brilliant smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," I whisper, a little overwhelmed by the truth in my statement.

"Not that I'm not _really _glad to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you were going to bury yourself in the new case all weekend," Jasper questions again.

"That was my plan, but I'm hitting a wall. So, I decided to hang out with you guys instead." Reaching forward, Jasper silently rewards my explanation with another supportive hug. He's been the most vocal about my self-imposed isolation.

"This case is a tough one, huh?" Rose asks.

"Yeah, there's a lot of information to sort through and put into place to ensure a conviction." Turning back to Jasper, I lightly punch him in the shoulder. "Tell me again why we're not doing this one together?"

"Because_ I_ had to finish up the Volturi case, and if I recall correctly from when you came bouncing into my office last week, you said this is _your _big break. The fact that Newton asked you to take the lead is huge. You wanted this remember."

"Well, I take it back. I'm beginning to think Newton gave me a no-win situation on purpose. If I fail, I'll be the scapegoat for the office. Then bonus for him, he can get rid of my ass, and I will no longer be a pain in his."

"Seriously, who are you? The Bella I know doesn't take that shit lying down. She fights and takes no prisoners. You sound like you've given up." Rose huffs out in exasperation before looking over to Jasper. "This is exactly what we were talking about. This mopey crap is getting old."

"Rose!" Alice hisses.

"You're not helping." Jasper chastises, my mouth still hanging open from the brazen comment.

"Shit," Rose mumbles remorsefully. "I'm sorry, Bella. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"She's right," Jasper adds jumping in. "We're all worried. You haven't been the same since—"

"I'm fine!" I yell cutting him off.

His eyebrow rises challenging my response, but I don't care, I refuse to discuss it. He, unfortunately, refuses to let it die. "Look, I get that grief takes time, but you're cutting people off. We're here to help you, whatever you need. Isolating yourself is not what your dad—"

"Don't," I growl lowly. Alice squeezes my arm, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her subtly shake her head at Jasper. Rose looks on warily, I know she has a lot to say on this subject, and I'm surprised that her liquid courage isn't making her jump on the "you just need to talk about it" bandwagon with Jasper.

Releasing a long frustrated breath, Jasper takes Alice's cue. "Okay, you're right. You wanted a night away. We don't have to talk about this now. We're just worried because we love you."

"And that means a lot to me, but I swear I'm fine." Taking advantage of the leeway, I veer the conversation back to safer topics. "I think I'm just tired, and honestly, this Biers guy freaks me out a bit. He's a really sadistic bastard. What if he creates more victims because I fuck up?"

Jasper stares for a moment. He knows me well enough to know exactly what I'm doing, but thankfully follows my lead anyway. "You're _not_ going to fuck up. Besides, I always have your back. I'm not officially assigned to the case, but I'll still help if you need me," Jasper says, leaning down to look into my eyes. "You have this, and we have you. Alright?"

"Alright." I smile back, silently thanking him for always being there, even when I'm being stubborn. The sentimental moment is short-lived, however, when I feel another sharp smack to the back of my head. Looking over my shoulder, I cut my eyes to Rose.

"Damn it, Rose! What is it with you and the back of my head tonight?"

"Don't let that idiot Newton get to you. You're the best. Make him recognize it," she argues, lifting her finger and pointing it threateningly in my face. "I'm warning you, Swan, keep up this 'woe is me' shit, and I swear I'll kick your ass so far—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Jesus, just how much have you had to drink tonight? You're a little more mouthy than usual."

Giving me a sarcastic smirk, she innocently shrugs her shoulders and lifts her drink to take another sip. But before the glass can touch her lips, she abruptly stops, her eyes widening. "Wait, did you say Biers, as in Riley Biers?"

"Yup, that's the one. You know him?"

"Who doesn't? Damn, you weren't kidding. He's high-profile and slimy as hell. The feds are finally going to prosecute?"

"That's the plan. Your office has gathered data for years. Everyone's decided it's time to go in for the kill, but a lot has to go right to get the sentence we want."

"Sam's the lead on that case right?" she asks seriously, the topic apparently decreasing her buzz.

"Yeah, I have a meeting with him Monday. Any advice?"

"Sam's tough, but he's a solid agent. If anyone can get Biers, it's him. He can be an ass, but I've learned that it comes from a good place. You're going to need him in your corner, so take his attitude with a grain of salt. You respect him, and he'll respect you."

"I can do that," I say, glancing towards the bar wondering how long it will be until Emmett returns with our drinks.

"Are you two done?" Alice asks in annoyance. "Can we leave the work talk behind now? We're here to get away from serious things, and have some fun."

"Honestly, girls. I swear we can't take you anywhere," Jaspers adds, his lips curling into a sarcastic smirk.

I glare in response. He knows damn well that he would be jumping right into the conversation if it were about one of his cases. Turning my back on him in an act of insolence, I focus on Alice giving her a sympathetic smile. "Yes, we're done. Sorry."

Alice works as a museum curator, and is the only member of our group not in the criminal justice field, which is a challenge to say the least. Given how much time we dedicate to our jobs, "shop talk" tends to take over more times than not. However, she is always our tenacious reminder to find balance.

"No way! Is that Bella Swan gracing my fine establishment with her presence?"

I look up to see Paul, the manager of the club, strolling over to our table. Although in his late fifties, Paul could easily take down most of the younger patrons. He's clearly physically fit, and the graphic tattoos running down his arm give him an air of danger. The combo is usually enough to keep most trouble at bay.

Although we met through difficult circumstances, I have come to consider him a dear friend. About four years ago, in a coordinated effort between several agencies, Jasper and I were able to convict the gang members responsible for the murder of his sister. Ever since, no matter how often I tell him it's not necessary, Paul guarantees us access to shows, and use of his personal balcony seats. The generous offer is one that I try not to take advantage of too often.

Getting up, I walk over and meet him for hug. "Hi, Paul."

"It's been too long, sweetie. How_ are_ you?"

Aww, there it is. The loaded question everyone eventually gets to when they interact with me nowadays. The tension that left my body moment's ago rushes back as soon as the vile words leave his lips.

"Fine."

Moving back, he holds my arms up, his eyes evaluating me carefully. "You're too thin. Are you eating enough? Are you hungry, do you want something to eat? I can have Leah go and pick you up something."

Even in my irritated state, I find myself smiling at his verbal barrage. As usual, Paul's concern for my wellbeing is making him go overboard. "Really, I'm fine. I'm a big girl, Paul. You don't need to take care of me."

"Bullshit. Someone needs to make sure you're taking care of yourself. I think you'd work yourself to death if we'd let you."

Hearing a chorus of murmured agreement behind me, I shift my narrowed eyes over to my friends. "Thanks for the support, guys," I spit out sarcastically.

"Don't get mad at us just because Paul is speaking the truth," Jasper retorts.

"And you wonder why I don't come out more often. I wanted to have some fun, not be read the riot act."

"Okay, okay. I'll lay off, but I want you to stop by more often. Deal?" Paul asks, looking at me with soft, pleading eyes.

"Deal," I grumble begrudgingly. I don't know if I can hold up my end, but at least agreeing to it will get him to back off for the evening.

"I've been told that I have a pretty good ear and a strong shoulder if you ever need either of those things."

Fortunately, before I can politely decline his "you can fall apart with me" offer, a loud crash from the front pulls Paul's attention away.

"Shit, sounds like the natives are getting restless. I'd better go see what's going on. You have fun tonight, and don't run off before we can catch up," he requests pulling me into another quick hug before rushing off to handle the commotion.

Turning back to the table, I find that abhorrent sympathetic look etched on the faces of my friends. It makes me want to scream. I just want them to treat me like Bella, not some fragile piece of glass that is about to shatter. Why can't they understand that?

My body language must have portrayed my frustration, because suddenly all three drop their eyes and start discussing other things. Maybe they will finally take the hint and leave well enough alone.

"Where the hell is Emmett?" Rose grumbles, looking around.

"He's on his phone," Alice answers.

Glancing at the bar, I see Emmett standing in the corner with a tray of drinks in front of him. Even from here, I can tell that his shoulders are tense as he nervously taps his fingers on the bar. After another second, he frustratingly pulls the phone away from his ear to start typing out what I assume is a text. He does not look happy.

"Any idea about what's going on?" I question.

"It's probably his partner. She's been driving him crazy, and she was in charge of completing their paperwork tonight," Rose answers.

"I hope it gets sorted out. He's been edgy all night," Alice adds.

After finishing his text, he roughly shoves his phone into his pocket before picking up the tray and heading in our direction.

"My eyes must be deceiving me because there is no way that _Bella _is sitting at our table," Emmett remarks as soon as he arrives. I smile at his typical banter, but notice the creases of stress still on his face, the humor of his statement not quite reaching his eyes.

"What can I say, I like to keep you guys on your toes so you never know what to expect," I joke in return, watching him closely. When he walks over to hand me my drink, I touch his arm softly. "You okay?"

"Of course. Why?" he asks casually, but the underlying tension is clear in his voice.

"You seemed upset over there," I state motioning towards the bar.

"Oh. That was nothing. No worries." He waves me off with a fake smile. "Are you, umm, staying for the concert or just stopping by?"

"I came for the concert. That's still okay isn't it?"

Emmett doesn't respond right away, subtly shifting his eyes to the right as his hand runs nervously through his hair. His cagey behavior is troubling, especially because it appears connected to my unexpected arrival.

"Of course it's okay." Rose jumps in. "What's the deal, Emmett?"

"Nothing," he bites back defensively.

"You sure, man?" Jasper asks focusing his gaze on Emmett. He seems just as confused as I am.

"I said it's nothing. Just a crap day and I wasn't expecting Bella to come that's all. You know you're always welcome," he says with a stiff smile, pulling me into a sideways hug.

Emmett always gives me a hard time about not hanging out with them, so I know there's sincerity behind his words. Nevertheless, tonight seems different, and I am at a loss as to why.

After passing the drinks around, a friendly banter about everything and nothing ensues. Unfortunately, my curiosity about Emmett tempers the relaxing evening I desired. While keeping up with the dialog, I watch him closely, hoping for some clue about his strange behavior, beyond his obvious preoccupation with the phone. Frustratingly, although his body language continues to scream agitation, nothing else he says or does sheds any light on the situation.

Several minutes later, Emmett pulls his phone out for the hundredth time, huffing in annoyance when he looks at the screen. After taking a large gulp of beer, he moves to look at it again, but stops suddenly when he spots something over my shoulder. I watch as the color drains from his face, his eyes becoming wide and panicked. Turning around, I try to spot what has him so uncharacteristically rattled. Shifting my gaze across the room, the air leaves my lungs when I see _him _moving through the crowd and closer to our location.

_Oh my god!_

Even from a distance, his vibrant green eyes shine as they search the room. His hair, although shorter, is still a perplexing combination of messy and sexy. The lighting of the club highlights the unique bronze tones, and I cannot help but remember how good it felt to run my hands through it. He looks unbelievably beautiful, and my heart stops at the sight. Anger quickly overcomes the shock when my brain processes that he's _actually_ here.

Edward Cullen, the man who stole my heart three years ago and then walked off the face of the earth is walking right towards me.

_I really should have stayed home tonight._

**_See you next week! _**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the wonderful response to this story! I appreciate all the notifications and reviews. Keep them coming. :)**

**I own nothing related to twilight. The original points are my own. **

**Thank you to my betas, TDS88 and beautifulnightmarex, they always keep on on track with my commas. A special shout out to LostInPA, whose thoughtful points helped to refine the details. She is awesome! **

**Important note: Without giving anything away, I want to make it clear that this is NOT a cheating story. **

**Now let's discover a bit more about Edward.**

Chapter Two: Wicked Game

_"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep." _

_SONNET XVII Pablo Neruda_

* * *

><p><em>The wind whips through my hair as soon as I release my ponytail. It's a rare occurrence when the coastal wind doesn't blow here, but at least today, the breeze feels nice in the summer sun. After shaking my head, I gather my hair again and adjust it to fit better under the batter's helmet. <em>

_My Dad has religiously watched baseball my whole life, I, however, was never interested in watching or learning about the sport. Now I wish I had paid closer attention, or at least agreed to go out and hit the ball when he offered to teach me. Who knew that years later my legal career would hinge on my ability to play the stupid game. _

_I've only lived in San Francisco for a couple of months, but I learned quickly that the softball tournament between law enforcement agencies is a huge deal around here. So much so, that my first day orientation included a lecture on my expected and successful participation in these games. I guess in comparison to the other teams, ours has always had a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to skill. In our current game against the San Francisco PD, that disadvantage is holding true given that they are already ahead by four runs. _

_At the moment, I am waiting in the wings to bat and dreading it. Before the game, I stupidly thought it would be easy. In my haste for acceptance, I may have told a small white lie about my softball playing abilities. Okay, a great big lie, but in my defense, I thought I could back-up the claim. I never imagined that hitting a ball with a bat would be this difficult. Frustratingly, I have yet to hit anything, and my teammates are becoming more and more irritated as the game goes on. _

_"Remember, hips before hands, Swan. And for God's sake stop choking up on the bat!" Jasper yells from first base. _

_"What the hell does that even mean?" I yell back, looking closely at the way my hands are holding the bat._

_"I take it you're not a pro-softball player?" A quiet, yet sarcastic voice asks from behind me. _

_"Hey, —" I spin around to reprimand the person, aggravated by the comments I've had hurled at me all day. As soon as I turn, the angry reply dies on my lips. Standing behind the fence is a gorgeous specimen of a man. _

_I'm sure I look like an idiot standing there with my mouth agape, waiting for it to work again as my brain catalogs the vision before me. He is tall and lean, wearing an obviously loved grey shirt and jeans. His distinctive facial features would stand up against any model, while his confident stance gives off the impression that he easily dominates any arena he chooses to step foot in. _

_Still stunned, I watch as his eyebrow hitches above the outline of his sunglasses waiting for my response, a sexy smirk gracing his lips. "Aren't lawyers supposed to be good with the whole talking thing?" he questions, obviously enjoying my reaction. _

_My eyes narrow at his derisive remark, pride effectively kicking the girly part of myself to the side. "Is there a reason for this tête-à-tête or are you just trying to be an asshole?" _

_He bursts out laughing; it sounds almost musical. "Touché," he retorts as he continues to stare fixedly in my direction. I cannot stop the flush that occurs in response. Apparently, my traitorous body is unwilling to cooperate with my irritation towards the stranger._ _"I couldn't help but overhear, so I thought I'd lend a hand," he says seriously. _

_"What are you talking about?" _

_Moving to the side of the fence, he comes through the opening and walks over to stand directly in front of me. "Your teammate's advice? You didn't understand what he was saying, so I came over to show you instead." _

_"Wait, why are you helping me?" I question defensively, my preoccupied brain finally realizing that he's not anyone I recognize from the office._ _"You aren't some nut that hangs around baseball fields waiting to offer advice to random strangers, are you?" I add sarcastically. _

_He laughs again, his face lighting up in the process. He's even more beautiful close-up. "I promise I'm not a 'nut'. I'm a friend of that guy." He points to the field at one of the opposing players in the middle. "Emmett McCarty." _

_"Isn't it against the rules to fraternize with the enemy?" _

_"Fraternize?" he asks, his smirk returning. "That's a pretty serious accusation considering I don't even know your name." _

_"You know what I mean," I mutter looking down, feeling warmth spread through my face again, but this time out of embarrassment. _

_"I just came to watch. I'm not on his team, which means I can help anyone I want," he comments matter-of-factly. I merely stare in return, trying to gage his true intentions. Grinning again, he continues. "But let's get back to that fraternizing part. What exactly would that entail?" _

_"You really are an ass." I huff, but before I can tell him where to shove it, he cuts me off. _

_"Edward. Edward Cullen," he says, reaching out his hand. "You've called me an unfavorable name twice now. I figure you should at least know my real one. And you are?" _

_I find myself hesitating to answer, feeling a little overwhelmed by my reaction to the man in front of me. Just as quickly as the uncertain thoughts strike, my dad's voice immediately drifts in to refute them. He spent my childhood teaching me, both through his words and actions, never to pass up on any opportunities that this crazy life offers. Spurred on by his wisdom, and the sincerity shining in Edward's eyes, I decide to embrace the moment and just see where the conversation leads. _

_"Bella Swan." I reach out and grab his hand firmly. It's warm, soft and completely envelops my own. The unexpected jolting sensation of his touch causes my heartbeat to jump erratically._

_"Nice to meet you, Bella Swan," he whispers huskily, still holding my hand. We stare at each other for several seconds before he shakes his head, breaking the bewildering moment. "Let's talk about what it means to choke up on the bat."_

_"W-what?" I sputter taken aback by the change in topic. _

_"Choking up. Here let me show you." Reaching down, he takes the bat out of my hand. "When you put your hands here, it's called choking up on the bat." He places his hands on the bat several inches above the knob, lifting it to show me._

_"And that's bad," I state trying to following him. I assume Jasper would not yell about it if the form were correct. _

_"Not always. It helps if you want a quicker swing against a fast pitcher. But that pitcher," he says pointing towards the field, "is not particularly fast, and he tends to pitch to the outside. You lose length with this hold, which is part of the reason you're missing the pitches." _

_"Oh," I sigh. _

_"Next time, place your hands at the end, so they rest against the knob. Like this." He holds the bat up again, but this time demonstrates the proper form. _

_"Okay, got it." _

_"Now, hips before hands," he murmurs stepping a bit closer. If possible, my heart beats faster._

_"What exactly does that mean?" I ask in a breathless whisper. _

_Stepping behind me, he holds the bat out in front of us, his arms encasing my body. Leaning down, I feel his lips ghost along my ear. "Hold the bat." _

_Shakily, I wrap my hands around the bat, holding it as he showed me earlier. I still have no clue where this person came from or why he is helping me, but I also know at this point I don't really care. For some unexplainable reason, Edward is igniting a desire that I have not experienced for a long time, if ever. What's more, I find myself really enjoying it. _

_"Good," he hums. "Okay, when you hit, you want your hips to lead your hands. Basically, rotate your hips first. Like this." _

_I feel his hand gently wrap around my left hip as he lightly pushes back, causing me to rotate slightly. Immediately after, his right hand, which is resting above mine, guides the bat forward. _

_"Hips before hands," he breathes into my ear. _

_My brain is fuzzy. I have completely lost sight of what I am doing or why I am here. The world has suddenly been reduced to just the two of us. Nothing else matters but this moment, which is crazy considering we have just met. _

_"Swan, you're up!" Mike calls from the dugout disrupting the intense chemistry between Edward and I. "And you better hit that damn ball!" _

_Mike has screamed at me all day. Jasper thinks he might have money riding on this game. I think he just hates me. For no justifiable reason, Mike has given me a hard time since the first day I walked into his department, and no matter what I do, nothing has changed his attitude towards me. The frustrating thing is that I am ten times the lawyer than that douche bag will ever be, but since he's my boss, I can't call him on it. _

_"He's kind of a prick, isn't he," Edward states. Peering over my shoulder, I see him staring in Mike's direction. His jaw tightening as he stands a bit taller. The testosterone-filled move surprises me. Maybe he and Mike have had problems before. _

_"You don't know the half of it," I mutter walking out of his grasp. "I should go before I get in trouble for delay of game or something. Wish me luck."_

_"Good luck," he enunciates quietly, his eyes burning into mine. "Just remember what we talked about, and you'll be fine." Mesmerized by his smile, I find it hard to drag myself away. _

_Stepping up to the plate, I look at the pitcher trying to calm my nerves. The first pitch flies, and I desperately swing and miss. Swearing under my breath, I try to focus on my grip while blocking out the aggravated yelling surrounding me. The second pitch comes fast, once again causing me to chase the ball instead of hitting it. The yelling intensifies, now accompanied by the other team's mocking hoots and hollers. _

_"Don't listen to them. You got this, Bella!" I hear Edward's velvet words cutting through the static._

_Focusing my eyes on the pitcher, I take a breath and concentrate on the ball. Almost in slow motion, I watch him wind-up and throw, the ball moving towards me. Tightening my grip, I swing the bat around hearing an unexpected crack as it makes contact and forces the ball back in the opposite direction. _

_"Run!" Jasper yells breaking me out of my initial shock. _

_Dropping the bat, I sprint to first base, reaching it easily before they can tag me out. With the adrenaline of excitement still coursing through my body, I can't help but jump up and down when I get there. Looking over, I see Edward standing against the chain link fence with a wide smile. He lifts his hand to tip his hat, and my body automatically reacts to the sight. I decide right then and there that somehow I will find a way to talk to Edward Cullen again._

* * *

><p>Snapping back to the present, I focus my anger on Emmett.<p>

"Want to tell me again how that phone call was nothing, Em?" I spit out, still focusing on the man walking towards us. It looks like he hasn't spotted us yet, which still gives me time to slip away and avoid the inevitable awkward encounter.

"Shit!" he hisses under his breath. "I'm sorry, Bella. I swear I tried to reach him before he showed up. I never would have invited him if I thought you were coming tonight."

"Whatever. I'm out of here." I roughly grab my coat and turn to walk in the opposite direction.

"Whoa, what's going on? Where are you going?" Jasper asks, looking a little alarmed by my sudden movements.

"Ask Emmett. I don't have time to explain."

"Emmett!" A hauntingly familiar voice calls out.

Fortunately, I don't think Edward can see me given that Emmett is now blocking most of my body and my back is to him. Taking in the scene, Jasper quickly figures out why I'm upset. He looks over my shoulder bewildered, before swinging his eyes back to mine with concern. Shifting to step around him, Jasper abruptly reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me.

"Let go," I hiss, glaring at his invasive hand.

Jasper simply tightens his grip and gives me one of his silent "this is for your own good" looks. I know what he is trying to do. Like everything else in my life these days, he thinks I need to find closure with Edward, believing that if I can confront my feelings, I will finally move on. Well, screw him. Tonight is not the night I need to face my demons. Wrenching my arm away, I walk around him without saying another word.

"Is that Edward?" Alice asks incredulously.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Rose hisses at Emmett.

Not waiting to hear his response, I swiftly scoot past both girls towards freedom. Moving away from the table, I sigh in relief. Unfortunately, my reprieve is short-lived. After taking only a few steps, the nightmare of having to face Edward comes screaming to the forefront of my reality.

"Bella?" Edward almost chokes.

I can hear the shock in his voice. Apparently, I'm not the only one who wasn't expecting a reunion tonight. Straightening my spine and cracking my neck, I take a deep breath and channel my courtroom persona. If I'm going to face him, I am going to do it on my terms. _No emotion, no mercy._

Turning around, I look directly into his eyes. "Edward," I say curtly.

He stands rigid, his knuckles slowly turning ashen under the pressure of his clutching fists. I can tell he's taken aback by my presence. His eyes scan me, seemingly drinking in every part. I want to yell at him to stop. To scream that he doesn't have the right to look at me anymore, but I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he still affects me.

"Bella," he whispers. If I didn't know any better, I would say he sounds almost… reverent. "I didn't realize you would be here."

"Last minute decision. So, you're back?" _Ice cold_, I chant trying to convince myself that I don't really care about his answer.

"Umm, yeah. I just got back a couple of days ago." He nervously rubs his hand across the back of his neck. It's a familiar gesture, one that I used to know well.

"Is anyone going to give me an answer as to why he's here?" Rose jumps in. "Because last time I checked, he's not welcome." Cutting her eyes over to Edward, she takes a small step forward. "Bella can be the bigger person all she wants, but in my book you're just an asshole who needs to crawl back into whatever hole you came out of. She doesn't need your mind games!"

I allow a small smirk to break free before I force my mask back in place. Leave it to Rose to defend me so vocally. She has continuously had my back when it comes to Edward, and I have always appreciated her support, especially since he's Emmett's longest and closest friend. Edward may have introduced us, but my friendship with Rose developed fast and fierce.

"Rose," Emmett whispers in a warning.

"Don't 'Rose' me! Why is he here, Emmett? Did you really think that just because Bella wasn't with us, we would welcome back him with open arms?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Alice moving closer as Rose spouts the things that are on the tip of my tongue. I love her for saying everything I cannot.

"This was a mistake. I should just go," Edward mutters, still holding my gaze. His focus on me has not wavered since I turned around.

Instead of being happy about his willingness to leave, his offer just pisses me off. His concession sounds like it stems from sympathy, and the last thing I want is his pity. I need him to believe that his presence means nothing; our relationship and his departure are merely insignificant blips in my history. Fuck him if he thinks he needs to make things better on my behalf.

Before I can respond to his offer, Paul's voice blares from the sound system, breaking us out of the uncomfortable stare down. "Okay folks, the show's about to start, if you don't want to miss it, grab your seat or piece of floor pronto."

Resigned, I direct my attention to Edward. "You don't have to go. We came for the concert and there's no reason we can't all stay. We're adults right?" I say diplomatically and emotionless. Maintaining my façade, I turn towards my friends. "I appreciate your support, but he honestly doesn't have to leave on my account."

The tension between Edward and I builds as everyone considers my proposal, his eyes still refusing to leave me. Jasper nods his head in approval, while Rose raises her eyebrow in disapproval. Alice chooses to react by quietly squeezing my arm, and Emmett simply gives me a curious look. I'm sure he's wondering about my sudden change of heart. Luckily, he doesn't question me. His silence is most likely for his own benefit as well, not wanting to upset the group further, especially since he is the reason for the inadvertent debacle in the first place. I almost feel sorry for him considering the earful that Rose will most likely give him later.

"Are you sure?" Edward whispers, a spark of…hope in his eyes.

"Of course. Why would I care if you stay?" I say coldly, wanting to extinguish his optimistic look. "Come on, let's go or else we're going to miss the start of the show."

I casually slip my arm through Alice's and start walking to the auditorium. Breezing past Edward, I try to ignore the overwhelming emotions that hit me when my brain registers the familiar scent of spice and vanilla. The smell used to give me feelings of safety and warmth, but tonight it sickens my stomach as unwanted memories of our history flash through my mind. Luckily, my increasing anger helps to push the memories back quickly, and I find myself suddenly furious that he has the gall to smell the same.

Rose scrambles around the table to walk with us. As soon as she reaches me, she leans over to whisper in my ear. "Are you sure about this?"

I give her a tight smile. "Positive. The last thing I want is for him to think that he still gets to me. Understand?"

She quickly returns a knowing smirk. "Gotcha. Project 'Bella doesn't care about your fucking ass' is officially underway."

"Should I bring the wine and chocolate over later so you can _really_ deal with this craziness?" Alice questions.

"Let's just see how this goes first. Okay?"

"Whatever you need, just let us know." Alice squeezes my arm again, subtly glancing behind her. "Jesus, I never expected him to come back, especially after everything that happened."

"Later," I whisper not wanting to have that conversation here.

Glancing behind myself, I see the boys following. Emmett and Edward look like they are in the middle of an intense, but hushed conversation. I suddenly wonder if Edward would have come had he known I was here. The thought twists my heart. I don't know what bothers me more; him wanting to see me or not wanting to see me.

Weaving through the crowd, our group makes it up the stairs and to our seats just as the lights dim. Strategically, I sit at one end of the row with everyone piling in after, leaving the seat furthest from me for Edward. From time to time, I sense the heat of his stare, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I keep my laser focus on the stage and the band. My mind, however, is a flurry of activity.

I still can't believe that he's here. All I wanted tonight was a break, a chance to feel normal. Instead, I'm anxiously focused on Edward. The thin wall between sanity and insanity is waning, and when Washed Out starts singing "All I Know" my control almost shatters.

_"I can feel the weight of it all. Can't brace myself for the fall."_

The room is suffocatingly hot as I try to sort through the unwanted waves of emotion. My measured and concentrated breaths feel almost painful moving in and out of my chest. Maybe I'm unknowingly trapped in Dante's Inferno. It would certainly explain the recent events in my life.

_"Say it's time that I try to move on. That the life that we had is now gone." _

The evocative melody continues to fill the room as my mind drifts. Long buried memories awaken, transporting me away from the present and into an unwelcome past.

_"It's so hard cause you're all I know." _

It was at another club not in the not too distant past that I thought I had finally found my destiny. The worst part is I still don't know how it all went so wrong.

* * *

><p><em>I shiver as the electric feeling of Edward's touch travels up my spine when he places his hand on my lower back, leading me into the Sheba Piano Lounge. I've never felt anything like it, but it gives me an odd sort of comfort. It's crazy that I only met Edward a week ago, because it feels like I have known him forever. Although we are still learning about each other, every piece of his life that he shares seems to fit perfectly with my own, and I admit that I'm starting to love the picture of us. <em>

_After Edward helped me during the softball game, I feared he might simply fade away with the sunset. To my happy surprise, he stuck around long enough to get my number and introduce me to his friend, Emmett. I was even more astounded when he called later that night, and we ended up spending several hours on the phone getting to know one another. Considering how tongue-tied I usually am around someone I'm attracted to, it was an amazingly comfortable conversation. _

_Our nightly phone calls continued for several days before he finally asked me out on an official date. Since he was more familiar with the city, he insisted on planning everything. Tonight's anticipation was almost torturous, and I found it incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything else the last couple of days. _

_"I hope you like Ethiopian and jazz," Edward states after giving his name to the host. _

_"I do. An interesting combination, but I do." I'm unable to keep the smile off my face as we follow another host to a cozy couch and table in the corner next to a fireplace. _

_The club's ambiance clearly caters to romance, which is slightly ironic considering that Ethiopian cuisine is a double-edged sword for setting a romantic mood. The sharing aspect is very intimate, but having to use your hands is messy. Suddenly, the precarious nature of this situation dawns on me. Due to clumsy tendencies, messy food is my nemesis. Hell, I'm lucky to make it through the day without some sort of stain on my shirt. _

_Panic sets in as I try to figure out a way to avoid embarrassment. Glancing nervously at Edward, I catch him staring at me, happiness shining in his eyes. The vision quiets my mental chatter and somehow calms me. For years, my dad has told me that you can't develop a relationship under the false expectation of perfection. Great love, he says, embraces the imperfect. That is how it survives the chaos of life. _

_Suddenly, I understand exactly what he means. I want this, and I want Edward to know me completely. For the first time, I don't just want to go through the motions of dating. If this relationship has any chance of making it, and I hope to God it does, Edward needs to accept me for me, clumsy tendencies and all. With my panic subsiding, I settle into my seat and give Edward a shy smile, warming on the inside when his faces lights up even more. _

_After ordering our drinks, I sit back to soak up the atmosphere and energy of the place. It's peaceful and relaxing. Towards the front of the room, there is a small blues band on stage, the singer belting out a soulful song about heartbreak. Closing my eyes, I simply revel in the sound. _

_"Looks like you're enjoying yourself," Edward whispers beside me. Turning, I catch him staring at me again, his penetrating stare making me shiver. "Are you a fan of this group?" _

_"They sound great, but it's the first time I've heard them." _

_"They do have a great sound. It takes amazing talent to hold your own in the blues world," he comments. _

_"You like this genre, huh?" I question, my interest piqued by the passion I hear behind his words. _

_"Yeah, blues is one of my favorites. I love how the notes build and linger. You can almost feel the emotion spilling out of the highs and lows." _

_"That's a beautiful description. Do you play?" It is obvious that music means a lot to him. _

_"A bit," he admits shyly._

_"What do you play?"_

_"Mainly piano and guitar, but on a dare a few months ago, I started learning the standing bass too." He looks down, seemingly embarrassed by the conversation. I have a feeling, however, that he is just being modest. _

_"Sounds like there's a story behind the bass." He laughs and nods his head, but does not give me any other details. I find myself hoping that he'll share them with me another time. "Will you play for me one day?" I request, leaning down trying to catch his eye. _

_He looks up smiling brightly. "If you play your cards right, maybe," he answers flirtatiously. "You said you liked jazz. Who do you have on your iPod?" _

_"Well actually," I laugh thinking about how strange my answer will sound now that I know how much this genre means to him. "I love coming to a club and hearing someone play, but I've never wanted to add any to my music collection." Edward looks at me wide-eyed. "I know, I'm strange." I smile shrugging my shoulders. _

_"This might change everything," he says with mock seriousness, mirth shining in his eyes. "I don't know if I can continue to date someone with such a superficial like of jazz and blues."_

_"Maybe I just need someone to show me how to truly appreciate it," I suggest staring into his eyes, my voice taking on a gravelly sound. _

_"Sounds like a challenge I need to take on," he murmurs, his hand slowly moving closer to mine. _

_Nervously, I decided to acknowledge the other part of his statement, his words causing my heart to beat wildly in my chest. "So, dating? Is that what we're doing, Mr. Cullen?" _

_Edward finally bridges the gap between our hands by reaching over to intertwine our fingers gently. Lifting them to his mouth, he lightly kisses my knuckles. "I can only hope, Ms. Swan. I can only hope." _

* * *

><p>Loud clapping and screaming brings me back to the present. Looking around, I realize the band just finished their encore. I guess I was lost in my memories longer than I thought. A lone tear escapes, and I hope that the low lighting and distance will prevent Edward from noticing the weak moment. Tightening my hands until my nails dig into my skin, I compel myself to pull it together. I've successfully held my own for far too long to let things fall apart now.<p>

With the concert over, the house lights suddenly brighten, illuminating not only the room, but also the unnerving nature of the situation. Now there is nothing preventing me from interacting with Edward. It's one thing to sit near him during a concert; it is a whole other thing to sit around trying to have a civil conversation about nothing.

Glancing over, I catch him staring at me again, his eyes questioning and wary. Turning away for my own self-preservation, I decide that I've fulfilled my social obligation by staying through the concert. Given the early morning hour, I can easily leave without appearing as if I am escaping. Expelling a shuddering breath, the pressure eases off my chest knowing it is almost over.

"You guys want to head back to the poster room or just go somewhere and get some food?" Emmett asks casually, throwing out the vague offer to everyone.

His suggestion angers me. I get that he's stuck in the middle, but I selfishly want him to support me over Edward. He knows that a casual drink or meal won't fix this situation. Things between Edward and I will never go back to the way they were. I cannot let it.

Instead of answering Emmett, everyone looks to me for a response. "You guys go ahead. I think I'm going to call it a night. I've got a long weekend ahead to prepare for that case," I say nonchalantly, consciously avoiding the eyes that have not left me all evening.

"You're sure?" Jasper asks.

"Yup." I smile widely. The movement feels forced and unnatural.

"Want Rose and me to come with you? Finish up with a girl's night." Alice suggests with a loaded look.

She obviously believes it's time to break out the wine, chocolate, and tissues. I know she means well, but the last thing I want is an emotional venting session. I'd rather just put this night behind me and keep moving forward.

"No, that's okay. I really need to get some sleep if I have any hope of being productive tomorrow. I'll call you later though." Alice quietly nods her head and gives me a sympathetic look. I hate that look. I've seen too much of it lately.

I take my time saying goodbye to everyone, wanting to keep up my "I don't care" facade all the way to the end. Walking over to Jasper, he pulls me into a tight embrace.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers into my ear. "It gets better, I promise." I numbly nod my head in response, but not in agreement. He doesn't understand.

Pulling back, he reminds me that he's there if I need help with the case, and tells me again that I am the perfect person to take the lead. It's ironic that his words barely register; only a few short hours ago the Biers case was my biggest concern. Now it sits on the back burner to the chaotic thoughts about Edward's return. This is exactly why I need to get distance from this situation. I will not let Edward Cullen distract me again.

After I say goodbye to mostly everyone, I realize the only one left is Edward. I feel the world tilt when I turn and see him slowly making his way over to me. The man has always affected me like no other. However, this time the emotions are conflicting and painful. I don't know if I will ever understand how he could walk away from something that felt so powerful.

"Edward," I say first, wanting to have the control, but not having a clue about what to say. "Take care and welcome back, I guess."

"Bella, I… uh…it's good to see you," he mumbles, glancing quickly at the people around us.

He's clearly uncomfortable, and I get the sense that if it weren't for prying eyes, he would have a lot more to say. Shifting his eyes back to me, a look of determination crosses his face. Little by little, he steps closer, his eyes piercing. The magnetic pull between us grabs me, and in my peripheral vision, I notice his hand slowly reaching forward. Realizing his intent, I almost jump backwards to avoid contact.

Blatantly ignoring his hurt look, I nod my head to acknowledge his strained statement and say goodbye one more time before finally making my escape. Frustratingly, before I can make it out of the door, someone else steps in and blocks my path yet again.

"Bella! Leaving so soon?" Paul asks. "I thought we were going to catch up?"

"I'm sorry, Paul, but can we do it another time? I really need to go," I blurt out quickly. The longer I'm in this building, the more claustrophobic I feel. I just need to get out of here.

"Okay, sweetie." He looks into my eyes, searching for the truth. I can only hope that I've hidden my emotions well enough or else he won't let me go easily. After several agonizing seconds, he seems to accept my excuse. "But you have to come back soon. Promise?" he asks, pulling me in for one last hug.

"Promise."

Once freed from Paul's arms, I move quickly. Rushing out of the front door, the cold air immediately hits me. It's a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat of the club. Inhaling it deeply, I try to focus on the victory of surviving the night instead of the disconcerting feelings that Edward's return has stirred up.

The loss of our relationship has always been a struggle, and one that I don't acknowledge often. Knowing he was out of the country made it easier somehow. Having him back in _my_ city is beyond confusing, especially now. The best thing I can do is avoid any interactions with him. Adjusting my scarf and stuffing my hands into my pockets, I hurriedly follow the same path I took earlier.

"Bella!" I hear from behind me.

_There's no way. _I keep pushing forward, pretending that it is just my imagination and not really Edward following me.

"Bella, wait up," Edward calls again, this time closer. Stopping, I slowly turn and see him running in my direction. He reaches me quickly, wispy puffs of air leaving his mouth as he catches his breath.

"What's up?" I ask, hoping that I pulled off a casual tone even with the blood rushing through my ears.

"Let me walk you home."

I stare for a moment positive that I must have heard him wrong. He cannot honestly think that he can just step back into my life as if nothing is wrong.

"Are you kidding me?" I burst out before I can filter my mouth.

"No." I open my mouth to speak again, but he quickly cuts me off. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, and I have no right to ask anything of you."

"That's right!" I yell bitterly.

"But, I can't let you walk home alone this late at night either." I am sure my face looks as shocked as I feel. There was no preparing for his ludicrous request. "Look, you don't have to talk to me. I just want to make sure you get there safely, okay."

"I don't need you to protect me, Edward. I've done just fine on my own for the last _three_ years," I spit out venomously.

Edward doesn't flinch or respond to my heated words. Instead, he simply looks at me with a strange and solemn expression. As if, he is not only expecting my anger, but is ready for the repercussions of it. Almost as if he desires it, like a masochistic fighter in a sparring match waiting for the inevitable punch.

For the first time tonight, I really _see_ him. His normally bright eyes are devastatingly haunted, and underneath his familiar facial lines and good looks is weariness. He looks exhausted, not physically tired, but the fatigue and disillusionment that comes from having a troubled soul.

I don't know what he's done for the last three years, but it has obviously changed him. A part of my heart aches at the sight, my anger suddenly deflating. During my worst moments, I use to wish him ill will, but actually seeing it affects me more than I expected.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I know that won't change anything, but I am," he whispers, his hands flexing restlessly, while his foot scratches at the pavement. I've never seen him this unsure of himself. "I just want to walk you home. I promise."

"It's really not necessary."

"I think it is," he argues back before slamming his mouth shut, his eyes shining with sudden regret at the forcefulness of his tone. He is smart enough to know that it will not earn him any favors. "Please, just let me do this," he requests again quietly.

He's clearly not going to back down. I remember his protective side well. "Fine." I concede turning to walk again, now more confused than ever.

I don't get far before Edward catches up and falls into an awkward step beside me. Shifting my eyes over to him, the only word that describes what I see is "lethal". His body looks primed for battle with his arms rigid, fists tight, and shoulders hitched, while his eyes are alert and continuously scanning the sidewalk and street around us. The sight is shocking, and once again, I find myself wondering what he's done during his time away. Shaking my head, I focus back on the path in front of me trying to ignore the myriad of questions swirling in my head.

Edward maintains his watchful vigil as we continue to walk in an uncomfortable silence. When anyone steps particularly close to me, he stands taller and narrowly stares him or her down, no matter how unassuming they appear. A few even jumped out-of-the-way, frightened by the look on his face. His defensive posture is a bit overboard considering nobody demonstrated ill intent, not to mention that I walk this path several times a day without any problems. I bite my tongue from questioning him about his behavior. Although I'm curious, starting a conversation is not worth the possible painful revelations.

Finally, reaching my house, I strut up the walkway leading to my door. Glimpsing behind me, I see Edward continuing to follow. Swinging around, I look at him pointedly. "Okay, I'm home."

"I'll just wait until your inside."

"Seriously?"

"I'm not trying to get an invite inside, Bella. I'm just making sure you get in okay."

"Whatever," I mumble, turning back around to unlock my door. Shoving the key in, I hear the familiar sound of grating metal when it jams. "Of course," I mutter under my breath.

Pushing the key in harder and shaking the doorknob, I try desperately to make it work. Unshed angry tears blur my vision making the task even more difficult. Being this close to the comfort of my home and not being able to get in, especially when I can feel Edward's eyes burning a hole into my back is agonizing. Trying to keep some amount of dignity until I get him to leave, I split my concentration between getting the lock to work and preventing the tears from falling.

"That looks cumbersome," Edward comments.

"Yeah, this lock tends to stick. It just takes a second," I say gruffly, mentally trying to will the lock to work with me.

"Want me to give it a shot?" Edward asks, as the key continues to refuse to push all the way into the lock.

Huffing out a breath, I look up to tame my tears before turning around and dropping the evil key into Edward's outstretched hand. "Go for it," I say lowly, stepping to the side.

Moving around me, Edward gently maneuvers the key into the hole. "You know, you should really get this fixed. It makes you an easy target when you have to stand outside of your door and mess with a lock."

"You make it sound like I live in the ghetto. This is still a nice neighborhood, Edward. I don't think taking a few extra seconds to get into my house is all that dire," I say sarcastically.

"Even so, it's still not safe. I'm surprised your dad hasn't replaced it by now. He was always so protective of you."

"My dad's dead." The words sound cold even to my own ears. In the five months I've lived with the harsh reality, I've barely said them aloud.

Edward's movements stop and he turns towards me stunned. "I'm sorry. I didn't know," he speaks softly, his eyes sympathetic and sad.

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't, now would you." I cross my arms, glaring at him.

Slowly shaking his head, his shoulders drop in defeat. Turning back to his task, he finally gets the door open. Stepping aside, he waves his arm granting me access. As I pass by, he reaches out to hand me the key. I take it carefully, purposely avoiding his outstretched fingers.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"You're welcome. I guess I should get going." He sighs, gazing longingly for another moment before heading back towards the main sidewalk.

Frozen in the doorway, I watch as he walks away, the encounter leaving me lost in a surge of thoughts and emotions. Unable to contain myself any longer, I finally blurt out one of the questions I desperately want him to answer.

"Why did you come back?"

Edward halts in his tracks and pauses before turning around. His eyes spear my soul when they find me, the intense look stealing my breath.

"For you."

Gasping at his retreating form, I wonder not only what he means but also whether I have the strength to pretend that I don't care.

**The plot thickens as they say ;) **

**As for the posting schedule, I typically post on Sundays. I was able to post these chapters so close because I am a bit ahead. :) See you next week! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome back! I'm blown away by the support for this story. Thank you to both ADF and the FicSisters International House of Fanfic for recommending it on their sites this week. I am so incredibility honored! All the notifications and reviews make me giddy. I love hearing everyone's theories. :)**

**As always, this chapter wouldn't be the same without the guidance and support of my betas, LostInPA and Beautifulnightmarex. They are awesome. **

**I own nothing related to Twilight. **

**Now on with the show. **

Chapter 3: Pieces

_"I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."_

_Friedrich Nietzsche _

* * *

><p><em>The warm breeze smells honeyed, making it a perfect night for a movie in the park. Walking hand in hand, Edward and I make our way over to a secluded spot in the back. Unfolding the blanket on the worn grass, I bend over to smooth out all the edges, watching out of the corner of my eye as Edward looks on with a heated smirk. His blatant reaction to my unintentional eye-full melts me from the inside out. <em>

_"Are you finally going to let me see what you have in there?" I ask with my own smirk, motioning to the large picnic basket he is holding. Edward had surprised me by showing up with dinner already prepared. The fact that he went to so much trouble is sweet, but knowing that cooking and Edward don't mix has me a bit worried. _

_Memories of his disastrous breakfast after our first night together flash in my mind, and I have to bite my lip to prevent any unexplainable laughter. He looked so proud bringing the tray into his bedroom. Unfortunately, he made the fatal mistake of not tasting the meal before he served it. Edward had taken the concept of "seasoned" eggs to a new level, and the first forkful nearly burnt my tongue with the overwhelming taste of salt. Not wanting to extinguish his happiness, I managed to choke the bite down. However, not fooled by my inept acting skills, he quickly stole my fork to try it. His mortified expression was priceless as he spit it out, profusely apologizing before grabbing the tray and running back into the kitchen to dispose of the experiment. Needless to say, we ended up going out to eat that morning. _

_"Oh ye of little faith." Edward smiles widely, patting the top of the basket._

_"What?"_

_"I know what you're thinking, Swan."_

_"I don't know what…I mean…I never…" I sputter, my logical excuses not quite catching up with the speed of my mouth. "Just tell me what's in there, Cullen."_

_Edward tries unsuccessfully to stare me down before breaking into an infectious grin. "I can't be serious with that face. You're adorable when you're all flustered, you know that?" Narrowing my eyes at his description, he leans over to kiss my frowning lips. "I went to Miller's East Coast Deli for take out." _

_Beaming, I clap my hands with delight and relief. "You're a genius! They have the best sandwiches."  
><em>

_"I know," he responds smugly while unpacking the basket. _

_Sitting side-by-side and sharing the delicious feast, Edward and I get lost in a comfortable discussion. Before I know it, the sun dips low in the western sky and the big screen starts flickering to life, indicating the impending start of the movie. A part of me is sad that our heart-to-heart will need to end. I've never felt so content, and I find myself not wanting any distractions from just being with him. Tilting my head towards the sky, I enjoy the splendor of the moment, trying to imprint it into my mind._

_"You are so beautiful," Edward whispers. Turning, I find him staring at me, his hand reaching out to run his fingers gently down my face. "I never expected you."_

_"What do you mean?" I question, confused by his odd choice of words. _

_"The day we met, I had gone to the game to get my mind off some disappointing news about a," he pauses, as if calculating his next words, "a job offer of sorts. Anyway, I was angry that my plans fell apart, and then suddenly you stole all of my attention. As cheesy as it sounds, that saying about one door closing and another opening really came true that day." _

_I smile, warmed by his words. "What was the job?" I ask curiously. He's never mentioned it. _

_"It doesn't matter. It's not important anymore," he says casually. "After meeting you I'm glad it didn't work out."_

_"Really?" It's hard to tell if he truly doesn't care, or if he just doesn't want to talk about it. _

_"Really. I could never regret anything that brought you into my life," he declares leaning forward to kiss me deeply. _

_My passion for him burns all the way into my toes. "I love you." _

_"I love you so much, Bella. More than you will ever understand." _

_Our lips collide again, his hand gliding up my neck and through my hair. The familiar humming of his touch trails behind his movements causing my heart to beat wildly. With a sensual pull, he captures my bottom lip between his own, and I can't help but moan in response. His other hand draws me closer, ghosting under the hem of my shirt, his fingers on my skin setting me on fire. I'm lost in the sea of sensations. Pushing, pulling, touching, tugging, until finally falling… quite literally on the ground. Our bodies crash together in awkward position, and I can't help but giggle at our less than stellar romantic move. _

_"Oops." Above me, Edward laughs and tucks my messy hair behind my ear. _

_"I guess my clumsy tendency is rubbing off," I joke, sitting back up and straightening my shirt. _

_"Aren't they cute, Harold?" An unexpected voice rings out. _

_Glancing to my left, I spot an elderly couple sitting on a blanket a few feet away. Embarrassed that they saw us, I hide my flushed face in the side of Edward shoulder. He softly chuckles against my head, rubbing my back reassuringly. Turning to face my embarrassment, I smile shyly as Edward introduces us. _

_"Sorry about that. I, uh, guess we got caught up in a moment there. I'm Edward and this is Bella." _

_"Oh don't be silly. Movies in the park are supposed to bring out the romance," The elderly woman comments with a wave of her hand. "I'm Maggie and this is my Harold."_

_With Edward's arm still wrapped around me, I sit up a little straighter and greet the couple. "Hi, it's nice to meet you." _

_"You have a beautiful girl there, Edward. Take it from an old guy like me, beauties like that are a rare gift. Never let them go," Harold cautions, glancing sideways at Maggie. _

_"Believe me, I don't intend to." Edward looks directly at me when he responds, his eyes filled with love and passion. _

_"They remind me of us at that age." Maggie sighs, squeezing her husband's hand. _

_"Thank you," I reply sincerely, wondering if Edward and I will still be that close in forty years._

_"Enjoy the movie, dears." Maggie graces us with one last smile before turning her attention back to Harold. _

_Edward leans forward to kiss me softly. "He's right you know. I'd be stupid to ever let you go." _

_"Then don't," I murmur, snuggling into his side, watching as the movie brightens the night sky around us._

* * *

><p>The muted light of early dawn peaks through my windows. Sighing heavily, I flop onto my back trying to get comfortable. Sleep has evaded me, my whirling thoughts making it impossible to rest. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see are haunted emerald eyes filling my mind as the words "for you" repeat on a continuous loop.<p>

Rubbing my gritty eyes, I realize that achieving any sleep at this point is a losing battle. Standing to stretch, my muscles pleasantly tingle with release, but the relief is short-lived. I'm exhausted, even my bones feel tired. It is a feeling I've never experienced until recently, and today it feels as though the hopelessness is winning.

Changing into comfortable sweats, I walk downstairs and head directly into the kitchen. Given the restless evening, my first priority is to brew an extra strong pot coffee. If I have any hopes of completing anything today, I will definitely need the extra kick. Waiting for the pot to fill drip by drip, I turn my attention to the foggy weather outside of the dew-covered window. Watching the billowy wisps float by is almost hypnotic as my mind continues to replay the events of last night. It makes me wonder how much stress a person can take before they finally fall apart.

_You're being ridiculous! _

I used to pride myself on my ability to overcome adversity. It's hard to comprehend why I can't do the same thing with these most recent events. I feel like I'm standing on a cliff, and the seduction of the darkness below is becoming more tempting, especially the freedom that would come with just letting go. My dad would be disappointed. This is not how he raised me, and yet, that knowledge has not been enough for me to change it. The only distractions from my dark thoughts are my cases. They give me a sense of purpose, and it's one of the reasons that Riley's case is so important. It has become a lifeline of sorts.

After filling a large cup with caffeinated goodness, I sit at the dining room table, ready to tackle the pile of papers crowding it. Opening the first file, I review Biers' background information making sure to take notes of key points and possible arguments. Riley is San Francisco's most notorious criminal mastermind and leader of its biggest crime syndicate. Recently, his strong hold has started creeping into other cities and neighboring western states, which is why our office wants to strike now.

Flipping through the pages, I come across a large professional photo. Holding it up, I foolishly wish that I could learn all of Riley's secrets by simply analyzing it. At face value, there is no doubt that the man is gorgeous. His handsome face, perfect smile, and hypnotic eyes provide an intoxicating visual, which he uses to his advantage in both his personal and business life.

However, it is what's lacking behind the gunmetal-blue depths that truly intrigue me. I have met "soulless" individuals on several occasions, but the ominous darkness staring out from the glossy paper makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand-up. The fact that this man believes he is invincible and derives pleasure from the pain of others energizes me to work even harder. I want to knock that sinister smirk right off of his face. Feeling a small spark, I sit up straighter and will myself to concentrate.

_To hell with everything else, this is my priority. _

Focused on reading, it takes me a moment to hear the persistent knocking at my door. Glancing at the clock, I'm surprised that several hours have already passed. Grumbling as the knocking continues, I realize that it's probably Rose and Alice wanting to check up on me. Although appreciative of their good, yet misguided intentions, I wish that they would just leave well-enough alone. They need to accept that I'm not interested in analyzing the details of last night or any other aspect of my life for that matter. Sitting quietly, I wait to see if they'll leave, but when the knocking continues, I begrudgingly get up from the table.

"Jesus, I hear you already! Shouldn't you girls still be in bed?" I yell, stomping towards the door.

Swinging it open, I'm about to spit out a sarcastic comment, but stop short when I see an empty stoop. Looking around for the person who, only a moment earlier was banging on my door, I suspiciously see nothing. Their sudden departure is a bit disconcerting given they seemed so intent on getting my attention in the first place. The person must have run off as soon as they heard my voice. Feeling unsettled, I slip into some shoes to see if I can spot anyone from the sidewalk. Stepping forward, I almost trip on two bags laying right outside of the door. Being so intent on looking for the mysterious visitor, I had completely missed them.

Cautiously, I kneel and pick up the first bag while continuing to glance around for the person who left it. Seeing the graphic for "Tartine Bakery" on the front turns my anxiety into curiosity, especially when I find several of their morning buns nestled inside. The baked treasure is a bit surprising considering you have to wait in line for a significant amount of time to get them. Given that they are still warm, the person was also able to travel quickly between the Mission District and here. Turning the bag around, I find a folded piece of paper with my name taped to the back. The familiar scrawl adds to my shock, but solves the mystery of its arrival.

Edward.

Still kneeling and holding the note in my hand, I contemplate what to do next. Do I leave everything here, or cave to the increasing curiosity of wanting to know his intentions? Deciding that I have to know, I shakily open the paper.

_Bella, _

_I was remembering this morning how the world used to fade away when you focused on a case. So much so that I would have remind you to stop and eat. When I passed by Tartine, I thought that you could probably use something to keep your energy up. Besides, even the most self-reliant of individuals deserve a treat from time to time._

_As for the lock, well, I know from experience that sometimes you just need a place to start. Your strength always inspired me, and I still see it, Bella. It's not lost. _

_You have every right to hate me, and I understand why you don't want to talk. I just hope that someday you allow me a chance to explain. I don't want to push you, but I also want you to know that I'll be waiting no matter how long it takes. _

_Yours, Edward_

Grabbing the other bag and ripping it open, I find a new lock and the tools necessary to change out the old one. Staring at the page, I become more enraged as I analyze each word. Fuck him if he thinks I need his pathetic gestures or words of wisdom. I don't understand his game. He was the one who walked away, not me. Looking around again, the prickling sensation of being watched creeps up my spine. I know he is out there, I can almost feel him. Stuffing the note in my pocket, I leave the bags on the porch and walk back into my house making sure to slam the door as a message to spying eyes.

Safely inside, I slide to the floor, his cryptic words from last night still echoing in my ears. Hitting my head against the door, I try to reign in my emotions, refusing to let Edward be the reason that I finally break down. Forcing myself to get up, I secure the lock, and march over to the living room.

Pacing back and forth, I try to temper the fury boiling in my veins. After years of hearing nothing, he barges right back into my life acting as if nothing happened, as if he's still the person who loved me like no other. My body feels restless, almost electric, the exact opposite of the exhaustion I felt this morning. Sitting heavily in the reading chair, I eye the door warily trying to decide my next move.

Glancing to the left, I spot the picture of my dad and I at my law school graduation. We are smiling, our arms wrapped tightly around each other. The picture was a present, the message around the silver frame specifically crafted. The top and sides are engraved with different parts of the phrase, "Think it, believe it, do it" with the date residing at the bottom. It was something my dad would tell me when I was feeling down or defeated. It's funny how I've let myself forget it recently. Picking up the picture, I stare into my father's eyes, feeling an overwhelming combination of comfort and loss at seeing the passion and happiness reflected back.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I whisper. "I wish you could tell me what to do."

As if on cue, my stomach grumbles loudly, reminding me that I have done exactly what Edward suspected and forgotten to eat. The sight and smell of the morning buns invade my senses making it hard not to salivate at the thought of tasting one. They are one of my favorites, and right outside.

"A place to start," I mumble reciting Edward's note, chaotic energy still pulsing through my body. With everything I need literally on my doorstep, I have no more excuses to feed my procrastination. Deep down, I know that I need to do this and face the reality that my father's not here anymore.

"Think it, believe it, do it," I whisper, starting at the door intently.

It would be nice not to have to worry about the lock anymore, and there is no way I can focus on legal documents right now. Besides, chances are that he left right after I shut the door. "So really, Edward won't even know that I ended up taking the bags," I argue to no one, trying to rationalize my sudden change of thought.

Pushing out of the chair, I walk back to the door and peek out. The bags are right where I left them. Looking around and finding nothing but an empty sidewalk, I quickly snatch them up and walk back inside. After grabbing another cup of coffee, I place a couple of buns on a plate and move back to the living room to sit on the floor. Surrounded by instructions, tools, and lock parts, I silently face my first demon.

* * *

><p><em>Opening my door cautiously at the unexpected knock, I'm surprised to find three officers in dress blues. At first, I think that they are there to take me to a crime scene, until I see the gold cross on the collar of the man in the middle. My stomach drops. <em>

_"Miss Swan?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"We're here on behalf of the Seattle police department. Can we come in?"_

_"Just tell me," I growl. "He's dead isn't he?"_

_At the regretful nod of their heads, I fall to the floor. _

* * *

><p>I let the emotions of the memory wash over me as I focus my attention back on the lock. "I can do this."<p>

My dad wanted me to be self-sufficient. Girls are just as capable as boys are, he would say. When I moved into this house, he came down specifically to teach me all the basics of home repair so that I wouldn't have to rely upon repairmen. Ironically, he was always okay with being the exception to the self-reliant rule. I know he secretly loved it when I asked him over for the weekend to lend a hand with some random project. I didn't realize how much having him available meant to me until he was no longer here to call.

_"Okay, Bells, no matter how easy you think something is, always read the instructions." _My dad's voice echoes in my head.

I smile remembering the time I thought I could fix my leaky sink without researching first. Stupidly, I decided that since I had a law degree, I was smart enough to figure out how to tighten a pipe. It took only one wrongly placed gasket and a wet kitchen for me to learn the importance of reading instructions. My dad never let me live the incident down.

_"Make sure you have all the parts and tools you need before you start." _

Laying out all the parts and tools, I carefully count and check it all off. Edward certainly thought of everything, and by the feel of the lock, he spared no expense. This is top-notch and appears unbreakable. He continues to show nothing but concern for my well-being, yet I still don't understand the intentions behind it. His recent behavior certainly doesn't match the heartlessness he showed when he walked away.

_"Home improvement is a great stress reliever. In a world full of things out of your control, sometimes the simple act of completing one project can give you a little more strength to take on other battles." _

My dad's words of wisdom break through the difficult thought. As always, he is right. I can't change what happened, I can't control Edward, but I can change this damn lock. Maybe tackling this demon will give me the strength to tackle another.

A half-hour later, I stand back and look at my work with a sense of accomplishment. I can almost hear my dad's "I'm impressed" whistle as I lock and unlock the door with ease. He would be proud, and knowing that alleviates a bit of the darkness that was threatening to consume me earlier. Leave it to Edward to light the fire I needed to take this first step. I honestly don't know if I love or hate him for it.

Satisfied with the job and feeling a sense of unexpected calm, I walk into the house to get back to work on the case. I still have a lot to do before Monday. Heading back to my kitchen table, I smile as I pass by the picture.

"Thanks, Dad."

* * *

><p>Glancing at my watch, I groan realizing there is no way I will make it on time for my meeting with Sam. Juggling a couple of files that didn't fit into my briefcase, I quickly navigate my way to his office. Stopping right outside of the door, I take a moment to regain my composure and straighten my rumpled jacket before lifting my fist to knock.<p>

"Enter," a deep and commanding voice responds. His tone reminds me of a principal calling a kid into their office.

Opening the door, I walk into the brightly lit, pristine, and organized office. There is not a spot of dust, dirt, or clutter anywhere. Sam either comes from a military background, or has OCD because no one's office should ever look this clean. Behind a spotless wooden desk sits a striking man with jet-black hair, olive skin, and dark brown eyes. When he stands up, I get the full picture of his impressive stature. He is tall, and although not as bulky as Emmett, is clearly in shape.

"Hi, I'm Bella Swan from the US DOJ's office."

Sam walks over and stiffly shakes my hand. "Ms. Swan, I'm Sam Uley. It's nice of you to _finally _make it." He sneers with disdain.

Remembering what Rose said this weekend, I bite my tongue from popping out a snarky comment in return. I need him on my side. "I'm sorry Agent Uley. It won't happen again."

Sam simply grunts and motions for me to sit in one of the chairs. "Let's just get started," he grumbles returning to the chair behind his desk. Jerk.

"Fine by me," I say sitting taller. With another dismissive glance from Sam, I feel a spark of determination. I will not allow him to intimidate me; I _will_ prove that I am worthy of this case.

"I've investigated Biers for three years. I think you will find that the case is in order."

"Actually, there are a few issues to resolve before I can take this to court."

Sam leans back in his chair, anger flashing across his face. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but—"

"I am the prosecutor, and it is my job to know what will or what will not succeed in court. I'll respect that you know how to investigate a case, but I know how to prosecute one, and I'm telling you, there are holes that will give the defense a valid argument to overturn the evidence."

"Saying that there are 'holes' challenges my work as an agent!" Sam growls, his fists flexing and tightening on the desk. He obviously doesn't like being challenged, but he and his ego will just need to get over it.

"You don't think that his defense attorneys won't? Riley Biers doesn't have a burnt out public defender. He has a team of high-priced attorneys who will dispute every single piece of evidence!" I pause, realizing that I need to calm down too. Bumping heads isn't helping anything. "Look, there's enough evidence to get us through the grand jury, but once we get into court the defense will hammer us. You have more on his lackeys than on Biers directly. That means a slam-dunk case of plausible deniability. I want to crucify _him_, not his organization."

Sam glares across the desk, his nostrils flaring. "Going after his organization is the best way to get to him."

"I don't disagree, but we need a stronger connection between him and those people. Much of what you have is circumstantial. I need more. So how about we cut all the crap and just work together? I'd like to think that we have the same goal here, and _this_," I emphasize waving my hand between us, "is getting us nowhere."

"You certainly don't back down, do you?"

"Not when it's something I believe in."

"You need more?" he asks.

"I need more," I state, watching him pull out several files from his desk.

"Fine," he mutters flipping through documents.

I watch with fascination as he goes through each file, the clock ticking away while we sit in an awkward silence. His frustration increases with each page before he finally slams all the files closed with a thunderous smack of his hand.

Looking up, a bitter smile breaks his stoic expression. "Well, counselor, you certainly know your stuff. I was prepared to prove you wrong, but you're right. The strongest evidence we have is against his team."

I barely stop myself from bursting out with a gratifying, I told you so. It's not the most professional option for a comeback, and probably won't earn me any favors. "I know my job."

"That you do," Sam concedes gruffly. "I guess I owe you an apology. I should have heard you out."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," I say, hoping that we can finally get past this tension and focus on the case.

"I've had a really crap morning, and hearing you challenge a case that I've busted my ass on probably pissed me off more than it should have." Getting out of his chair, he moves around to lean against his desk right in front of me. "You're right, if we are going to do this, we need to work together. Tell me what gaps to fill in. I want this asshole more than you could know."

"Okay," I agree, relieved at the sincerity I hear in his voice. "How about we start by going through the evidence together step by step?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam nods his head. "Okay. But before we do that, how about _we_ start over?" he asks, reaching out his hand with a charming grin. "Sam Uley, it's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Swan."

Looking down at his offered hand, I can't help but laugh at the gesture. "Agent Uley, I've heard good things. I'm looking forward to working with you. And, please, call me Bella."

"Call me Sam," he says holding my hand firmly. "You've heard good things huh? Guess I really need to make up for earlier then." He stretches around to grab several files. "You ready to take this son of a bitch down?"

We work for several hours comparing our notes and ideas on the best way to proceed. It's clear that Sam knows this case inside and out, however, as I feared there are still too many gaps for my liking. Riley is too good at keeping his hands clean. I intend to ask for the death penalty, so I need iron clad evidence and we don't have it yet.

"Okay, all the words on this page are blurring together. Let's take a break and get some lunch," Sam suggests, disrupting my concentration on the financial file I'm reviewing.

"Umm, sure. What's good around here?"

"A lot, but my favorite is probably this amazing Chinese restaurant a few blocks away."

"How is their moo shu pork?"

Sam looks at me with a wide smile. "A girl after my own heart. That is one of their best dishes. Want to come with me to pick it up?"

"I could stand some fresh air," I say getting up to grab my jacket.

Following him out of the building, we fall into a comfortable conversation. My impression of Sam was way off. He is much more easy-going than he first appeared. He has a great sense of humor, and his obvious love of reading gives him a wide base of knowledge to discuss a variety of topics. I can't help but enjoy the deep discussion, and by the time we reach the restaurant, it feels like we've solved all the world's problems.

After picking up our food, Sam unexpectedly changes the topic. "I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds, but I heard about your dad. I'm sorry." His comment shocks me. I didn't expect him to know anything about it. Sensing my surprise, he explains further. "Your dad was a well-respected detective within the law enforcement community. Word of a tragedy has a way of traveling fast."

"Oh." The pain in my gut that was missing earlier suddenly returns.

"Did they find the guy who did it?"

"Umm, no. The case is still open. Seattle P.D. believes that he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's not a lot to go on in regards to the suspects."

"If I can help out let me know. The bureau has a lot of resources, and I'm sure the director would be happy to lend a hand."

"Thanks," I say dismissively not wanting to talk about it anymore.

We walk for a couple of minutes before Sam breaks the silence. "I lost my mom a couple of years ago. It was hard, but you know what I hated the most?"

I look up, staggered by his unexpected revelation. "What?"

"People trying to make me feel better. I just wanted to get on with my life. I'm a special agent for God's sake, I didn't need my hand held. But all of sudden my friends and family treated me like I was sick. Fucking pissed me off. Sometimes you just need to leave well enough alone, you know."

"Yeah, I do," I whisper. No one, not even those closest to me, has understood, yet somehow Sam is able to summarize it precisely.

Sam stops, reaching out to grab my arm gently. "If you ever need to escape, just give me a call. I learned a few tricks that helped me get through the worst of it."

I'm surprised his actions don't irritate me as much as it does when others have made similar suggestions. Maybe it's because he's the first one that seems to understand what I'm going through.

"I may take you up on that," I answer truthfully instead of just placating him as I have so many others.

"I don't know what it is about you, Bella. Even though you've spent the entire morning challenging me, which I really hate by the way, I still really like you," Sam comments with a sarcastic grin, breaking up the serious moment.

"Well, isn't it obvious? I'm awesome," I joke back. It feels good to laugh again.

"And don't forget modest." He laughs before letting go of my arm to start walking again. Chuckling along with him, I realize that I've laughed more today than the last few months combined. Something tells me that hanging out with Sam might just be another step towards healing. Although we've just met, I can see him becoming a good friend.

After eating lunch, we spend several more hours going over the next steps. I need to work on obtaining several warrants for a few of Riley's buildings, while Sam is going to meet with his informants for intel on any up and coming activity. If we can catch Riley in the act of something major, it will solidify our case, and make it easier to show a pattern that will tie him to previous crimes.

"I have to say, Bella. I'm really impressed," Sam utters, watching me put my files back into my bag.

"What do you mean?"

"I've worked with a lot of DOJ lawyers, but you have the mind for it. I can see you working on your points, and calculating the possible arguments the defense will try to make. You definitely know how to build a solid case. Like I said, I'm impressed."

"Thanks," I mumble looking down to straighten my folders when I feel the predictable heat of embarrassment.

"I'm glad we're working together."

"Me too," I agree while attempting to grab one last file. Unfortunately, my fingers work against me, and I end up knocking my file and a couple of Sam's, to the floor. "Crap! I'm sorry." I quickly bend down to pick up the papers that scattered everywhere.

"It's okay. No worries," Sam reassures, leaning down to help.

In the process of retrieving several papers to hand back to Sam, one of the documents grabs my attention. It's a picture of an artistic looking butterfly with an Asian symbol woven into the wings. It's beautiful, and I swear I've seen before.

"What is this?" I ask holding it out to Sam.

"Oh, that's something from one of Riley's companies. He likes to use the symbol of a butterfly on lots of things. I'm not sure why, seems a bit girly to me, but to each their own I guess. Why?"

"It seems familiar."

"Hmm, it was probably in one of the files you read."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Handing Sam the last of the paperwork, I grab my files again. "I guess I better get going. I'll be in touch when I get the warrants in place."

"Sounds good. Be safe going home. It's a crazy world out there," he says seriously, walking me to the door.

"I will. You too, G-man."

"Please, I'm invincible," he jokes sarcastically, playfully bumping me with his shoulder.

"You're right, what was I thinking," I retort back with a gentle shove of my own.

All the way home, I couldn't get that picture out of my head. I know I've seen it before, and it wasn't in a file. I rack my brain trying to figure out where else I could have seen it. Suddenly, a vague memory makes my blood run cold.

"It can't be," I mutter, willing the cab to go faster.

Running into my house, I go directly to the downstairs hall closet and yank the door open. It is full of boxes from my Dad's house, most of which I've never really gone through. Jasper helped me pack them while my mind was in a haze. I remember just wanting to get it over with; crushed that the bank was foreclosing on the house I grew up in so quickly. It was devastating to lose, but Jasper had logically convinced me that it wasn't worth saving.

* * *

><p><em>"You really had no idea that things were this bad?" Jasper questions incredulously, looking over several of my dad's financial documents. <em>

_"No, he never mentioned anything. What do I do?"_

_"I don't think you can do much."_

_"I spent most of my inheritance on that damn house. Maybe I can get a loan." My brain spins, frantically searching for options. _

_"And do what, Bella? You don't live in Seattle. Even if you can save the house, which given all of his other debt I doubt you can, then what? It'd just be standing here empty. I know it's hard, but think about this rationally. It's not worth it in the end." _

* * *

><p>Jasper didn't understand that my dad and his house were like my north star, always there to guide me in the right direction, especially after Edward left. The bank took the house away from me just as unexpectedly as someone took my dad. It was just too much to handle.<p>

Throwing my coat to the side, I start pulling the boxes out one by one. Ripping open the tops, I frantically sift through the items, desperately looking for what I need to prove myself wrong. Finally, buried in the tenth box, I find my Dad's journal. He wrote in it religiously every day. He said putting his thoughts on paper helped him to let things go and work out problems. Flipping to his last entry, my world shatters. There in all its glory, is a pencil sketch of the same butterfly symbol.

**Up next, some Edward and Bella present day interaction with a glimpse into what he's been doing. See you next week! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Happy Sunday!**

**Thank you for all the notifications and reviews. Everyone is asking good questions and posing some great theories. ;) **

**Once again, LostInPA, TDS88, and Beautifulnightmarex have worked their magic on this chapter. I am lucky to have them on my team. :)**

**I own nothing related to Twilight, the original plot twists and turns are mine. **

**And now, a few more pieces to this puzzle. **

Chapter 4: Wreck of the Day

_"Until we have seen someone's darkness we don't really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone's darkness, we don't really know what love is."_

_Marianne Williamson_

* * *

><p>"No, no, no."<p>

The journal slips from my hands and crashes to the floor. With blurring vision, I back out of the closet eyeing the book cautiously, almost as if Riley Biers himself will leap out of it. Grabbing my phone, I try to call for help, but it won't stop shaking long enough for me to swipe the screen.

"God damn it." Flexing my hand a couple of times to steady it, I am finally able to manipulate the numbers.

"Bella?" The static rushing through my ears makes Sam's voice sound far away.

"Can you come over?"

"Now?"

"I found something in my dad's journal. I think Riley had something to do with his death." The words rush out frantically.

"Are you sure?" he asks skeptically.

"Yes…no…I don't know. Can you just come over?"

"On my way. Just hang on."

Rattling off my address, I end the call realizing that my house looks like a tornado. I'd better clean up; given how clean his office was the mess would probably disturb him. Numbly, I put everything back into the boxes and hang up the jacket that I tossed so carelessly to the side. Reaching down, I carefully pick up the journal, place it on the table in the hallway, and close the closet door. Now I have nothing to do but wait.

The implications of that drawing are horrifying. I've always felt that there was more to the story, but I never in a million years considered it would involve Riley. My dad usually told me when he started a new case, yet around the time of his death, it sounded like things were quiet. If he was investigating someone as high-profile as Riley, he would have told me. _Wouldn't he? _

Glancing at the clock, I'm surprised that it's only been thirty minutes since I made the call. It feels like hours. I've already waited five months too long for any information. I don't think I can wait a minute longer, especially when Sam may finally have the answers I need.

Hearing a loud knock, I can't hold back the verbal torrent that falls from my mouth as soon as I open the door. "What if Riley killed him? You need to arrest him. We need to interrogate him. I want answers!"

"Whoa, Bella, slow down," Sam says calmly, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

"I can't slow down! Do you know what this could mean? There are no suspects in my dad's murder. None! Oh shit, I should call the Seattle P.D. They need to know about the picture." I swing around looking for my phone, trying to remember where I put the number of the lead detective on his case.

"Hey, just stop and breathe for a second." Sam slowly approaches and places his hands on my shoulders to stop my frantic movements. "Come here," he whispers pulling me into a hug. "You're shaking like a leaf."

"I just don't understand. Why would it be in his journal?"

"We'll figure it out, I promise," he replies, lightly rubbing my back.

Feeling slightly calmer, I step out of his embrace. "Okay, okay." Taking a deep breath and releasing it, finally helps to ease some of the pressure I feel. "Thanks, for coming over on such short notice."

Sam gives me a tight smile. "Anytime. Why don't you show me what you found and we can go from there."

Walking over to the table, I show him the page from the journal. "Here. I knew I had seen it before."

"You think your dad drew this?"

"He wasn't in the habit of showing that journal to anyone, so yeah, I would say he drew it," I retort tersely.

"I'm just making sure that we have all the facts. That's all, Bella."

"Of course, sorry," I whisper, deflated. "I didn't mean to snap, but this is the first solid lead I've had on his killer."

Sam looks up from the journal guardedly. "I admit it's strange that he would have it, but let's not jump to any conclusions. He might have just seen it and recreated it. Who knows if he even knew that it had anything to do with Biers."

"Are you being serious now?" I ask disbelieving.

"Yes. You want a strong case, right? We can't assume anything. We need to take this one step at a time."

"Fine. What do you suggest?"

"Let me make some calls to Seattle and see what he was investigating. I can also ask them to send me what they have on his case. I don't think they will mind the FBI looking into it. They probably want blood for his death almost as much as you do."

"I don't want blood. I just want answers," I mutter.

"Okay, Bella," Sam whispers. "We'll find them."

"Thank you." My eyes blur again with unshed tears. I thought I'd accepted that I would never know what happened to him. Apparently, I was lying to myself as much as I was lying to everybody else. Now I can't extinguish the burning desire for justice.

"He was killed off duty?" Sam asks.

"Umm, yeah. They think it was a carjacking gone bad."

"Do you know the details?"

"Some." I can't stop trembling. I've never really talked about it or allowed myself to think about the details.

"I know this is hard, but the more I know the better." Sam steps forward, reaching out again, but I step back. I don't think I can do this with him so close. The contact would be suffocating.

"He was coming back from the movies," I say quietly trying to gather the courage to continue, the words choking me. "It h-happened at a red light. Witnesses said, umm, someone…s-someone approached the driver's side. My dad's gun was on the floor by his feet. The detectives think…they think he was reaching for it when the other person shot him."

"He died instantly?" Sam questions in an interrogative manner.

"Yes."

He makes the act sound so ordinary, but for me, it's been one of my biggest struggles. My dad probably didn't suffer, which I should be grateful for, yet, his quick death prevented any opportunity I had to say goodbye.

"If there are witnesses, how are there no leads?" Sam takes out a small notebook to take notes, triggering a sense of déjà vu. The Seattle detectives had similar notebooks when they asked me questions the day after my dad's murder.

"It was too dark to give any details about the suspect. Based on size, they think it was a man, but that's about it. There were no other fingerprints on or in the car, and since it was pouring down rain, there was no way to track him or gather any trace evidence around the scene. To top it all off, the neighborhood's old and run down which means no surveillance cameras. Everything was a dead-end. Until now." I stress, wanting to switch the focus back onto the journal.

"Until now," Sam mutters looking at the page again.

"What does that symbol mean?"

"We're not a hundred percent sure. We usually find it on documents associated with his dummy corporations. We do know that the Chinese symbol in the wings means 'master' but that's about it."

"You didn't research it?" I ask incredulously.

"Of course, but he also likes butterflies. He uses variations of them on all sorts of documents with no clear rhyme or reason. It wasn't that unusual, and there were more important things to focus on than trying to figure out why Biers has a weird butterfly fetish."

"If my dad put it in his journal, it's important! How could you just ignore it?" An all-encompassing fury floods my body. _What if this 'oversight' contributed to his death?_ Stepping closer, I point an accusatory finger in his face. "How could _you_ drop the ball like that?"

Taking several steps back, Sam raises his hands in submission. "Whoa. Hold up. I did my job. It was a dead-end. I don't disagree that something's there, but before now, there was no reason to focus on it. You should know better than anyone that sometimes investigations come down to the allocation of resources. I didn't have the luxury to chase down every possible speck of a lead."

"You'll focus on it now?"

"Of course." Moving closer again, he places his hand on my shoulder and bends down to look into my eyes. "We _will _figure this out."

I take another breath, realizing that I'm targeting my anger on the wrong person. "Okay."

"Do you mind if I take this?" he asks holding up the journal.

"Can't you just copy the page?"

"Chain of custody, counselor. I need the original, remember. Besides, there might be other entries connected to Biers. I won't let anything happen to it, Bella."

"Right, of course. Just make sure I get it back when this is all over."

"I will. You realize that if there's any connection to your dad, you'll have to recuse yourself from this case."

I nod my head in agreement. I hadn't thought that far ahead, but Sam's right. "If we find a connection, I'll talk to Newton right away."

"Good. I'd better get started on those phone calls if we're going to get any answers. Are you going to be okay by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," I respond blankly, walking Sam to the door.

He gives me a worried look before pulling me into another hug. "Call me if you need anything."

"Sure." This feels so anticlimactic. Rationally, I knew we could not solve everything tonight, but I wanted to hold onto at least one piece of tangible evidence. Instead, I'm forced into another waiting game.

"I'll call as soon as I hear anything," Sam assures, walking out of the door, holding the journal tightly. The sight nauseates me; it feels so wrong to let it go.

Shutting the door, I'm suddenly left in a silent void. I contemplate calling Jasper and Alice, but change my mind when I realize they will only ask a bunch of questions that I can't answer. I love them dearly, but they don't know how not to push.

Although Emmett is always a great distraction, I'm still not over his part at the Fillmore. He denied knowing any details about Edward's departure, but the fact that he knew about his return so quickly is suspicious to me. Those unanswered questions are just too much to ponder on top of everything else.

Still feeling too restless to sit alone, I decide to call Rose. Neither of us likes to over-analyze our emotions; it's what we bonded over early in our relationship. She may express her frustration about my behavior, but I also know she will understand that I'm not in the mood to talk about anything serious. Rose, wine, and a stupid movie might just be the perfect cure for tonight's ails.

On the fourth ring, she answers quietly sounding preoccupied. "Bella?"

"Hi. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm on a stakeout so I don't have long."

"Oh right, I forgot. The Crowley case?"

"That's the one. I landed in L.A. today. If everything goes right, I should have this sucker wrapped up by the end of the week."

"That's great."

"So, what's going on? Are _you_ okay? I've been worried."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just calling to say hi," I lie.

"Shit, I gotta go. I'll call you later. Love you." She abruptly ends the call, leaving me alone once more. _There goes that idea._

Deciding to give up on the prospect of company, I walk over to the kitchen and place the last morning bun on a plate to microwave. I'm not hungry, but for whatever reason, it sounds comforting. Sitting at the counter, I pick at the bun impassively, trying not to focus on the difficult thoughts floating through my mind.

In the middle of the counter, I spot the crumpled note that Edward left a couple of days ago. Unconsciously I open it to re-read his words, realizing that although Edward said he's available to talk, he didn't give me a way to contact him. _Would I call if I had his number?_

The next several hours pass in a dreadful blur of mindless television. Twirling my phone awkwardly around my fingers, I anxiously wait for Sam to call with an update. The phone, however, remains frustratingly silent. Around midnight, I finally give up and go to bed.

Without any solid answers, my sleep is restless and filled with shadowy figures. Exhausted and shaken from my nightmares, I find myself walking over to the bottom left drawer of my dresser, the one that I've purposely ignored for years. Slowly opening it, I sort through the neatly folded clothes that Edward left behind, looking for an old favorite.

Taking out the worn Stanford sweatshirt, I pull it over my head and sniff the sleeves wishing it still smelled like him. The irony of the thought is not lost on me given that his familiar scent was so upsetting just a few days ago. Shuffling back to my bed, I snuggle into the blankets and with the memory of Edward's comfort enveloping me, finally fall into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>Hopping awkwardly towards the door, I cram my foot into the uncomfortable heel that goes with my dress as the horn of the cab continues to blare. Nothing about today has gone right. Still not hearing back from Sam, I spent the day in a preoccupied fog trying to complete reports and obtain warrants. Having lost track of time, I now find myself rushing to get to Alice's charity event at the museum. The event is huge publicity for them, and the first one she's done since transferring there several months ago. Depending on the outcome, it could make or break the museum, and I promised that I'd be there to support her.<p>

The cab honks again as I grab my jacket. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't leave." I yell, rushing out the door waving my arm to get the driver's attention before he gives up on me.

Jumping into the back, I quickly regurgitate the address to the impatient cabbie. Ignoring his mumbled grumbles from the front seat, I pull out a small mirror to do a final check. The reflection staring back is almost unrecognizable. My face is drawn and haggard from lack of sleep. Prominent dark circles mar the skin under my eyes. I look… hollow. Slamming the compact shut, I lean back and push the disconcerting emotions away. The possible connection between Riley and my father has shaken me, but my priority tonight is being there for Alice.

Arriving at the museum, I throw some cash at the driver and rush towards the entrance. Huge spotlights illuminate a prominent red carpet for the who's who of San Francisco to stroll and have their picture snapped by several local news outlets. Walking quickly, I ignore the reporters' questions and requests for an interview. I don't have the patience for polite small talk tonight.

Walking inside, the sight is awe-inspiring. The decorations have a contemporary, yet classic feel with strings of fairy lights and hundreds of candles creating a warm and embracing glow. Hundreds of guests mingle happily while the classically dressed waiters roam the party with trays of drinks and delicate hors d'oeuvres. Alice has done a fantastic job.

As soon as Alice sees me, she rushes over, panic enveloping her entire body. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know." Her words rush out in a frantic whisper.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" I ask, grabbing her hand to help ground her.

"I didn't know it was him. I wouldn't have asked you to come if I did."

Trying to decode the meaning of her pressured words, I follow her line of vision to find the source of her panic. There, standing in all his glory in the corner of the room, is Edward. My heart unconsciously flutters at the sight. The addition of his crisp black tuxedo and tie only magnifies his typically commanding presence.

After reading his note, the confusion I felt the first time I saw him is now tenfold. It also doesn't help that I found comfort in his memory last night. I don't know whether to confront him, thank him, or simply ignore him. At least before, I could just be angry at his absence.

"My assistant was in charge of communicating with the company and she never once mentioned the name Edward Cullen."

"What's the name of the company?" I ask, still trying to fathom the scene in front of me.

Edward stands tall as he mixes with the power players of San Francisco. To an outside observer he appears calm and confident, but to me, it looks as if he is putting on an act. Knowing him like I do…I ruefully shake my head at the thought. I shouldn't kid myself. I don't know Edward. It's a good possibility that the man I knew was the act, not the one before me tonight. The thought is maddening.

"Global Security," Alice answers.

"You're kidding!" I swing my eyes back to Alice. "That was his grandfather's company."

"_What_? Didn't he hate his grandfather?"

"Yes. He was doing everything he could to distance himself from his legacy. I guess he took over the company after he left." I look back over at Edward pondering what other secrets he kept hidden.

"I remember he never shared much about his family," Alice comments.

"He didn't like to talk about them," I mumble watching him closely.

"I wonder what changed his mind."

"I don't know."

Finally turning in our direction, Edward's eyes widen when he sees me. Almost taking a step, he abruptly stops, a painful look crossing his face. Swiftly, his demeanor transforms into a cool look of sophisticated indifference. He smiles slightly and nods his head as if acknowledging the presence of a business associate. The ten-second display throws me. However, he's not the only one capable of pretending, so in return, I give him my most charming grin.

Reacting to my smile, he moves forward only to stop again when an immaculately dressed women threads her arm comfortably through his. The sight causes my heart to clench even though I have no right to feel jealousy. She leans over to whispers something to him, his face pinching in response. The look reassures me that it wasn't a playful or seductive comment. Looking in my direction one last time, he reluctantly turns and walks with her into a different room.

"I'm sorry," Alice says.

"It's fine. I guess I need to get used to running into him. Don't worry about me, this is your night. The place looks amazing, Al." _Cold, indifferent, numb; I can do this_. I refuse to let my fucked up emotions ruin things for her.

"Thanks. I think it's going well."

"It's going great!" I reassure pulling her into a quick hug. "Where's Jasper?"

"Mike called him in for a late meeting. One of the cases went south and he wants Jasper to fix it." This is something that occurs all too often in our line of work, but I can still see her underlying frustration. I'm sure she was counting on his support to ease her nerves.

"Mike's a jerk. I'm sure Jasper's busting his ass to get here as soon as possible."

"Yeah, he is. He keeps sending me texts to let me know he's thinking about me and assuring me that I can do this."

"You two are just too cute," I joke. They have the type of love that all people strive to find. "I can already tell it's a huge success, so relax."

"Thank you. I should probably go check in with the caterer."

"Of course, go ahead. I'm going to circulate and eavesdrop on all the great things being said so that I can tell you later."

"You're the best. I'll come find you in a few."

Strolling around the gallery, I get lost within the art and my own thoughts. Coming upon a large abstract painting, I find myself unable to move forward, the swirling, chaotic colors pulling me in. I don't know much about art, but I imagine the artist was feeling lost when they painted it. Darkness mutes the colors, swirling black sucking everything down into its cavernous depths. It is as if the artist knew the secrets of my soul.

"Intriguing isn't it?"

I turn around to find the stony blue eyes of Riley Biers. He's the picture of arrogance and power in his black tuxedo and dark red tie. My spine straightens as I pull my face into the lines of apathy, hoping to cover my surprise. I want to ask him a million questions, but I remember Sam's warning not to jump to conclusions. Besides, if he does know something about my dad, I don't want to show my hand just yet. The less he knows the better.

"Yes it is," I state matter-of-factly.

"Do you know the artist?" An unidentifiable accent accentuates his speech, as though he's captured certain nuances during his travels but never stayed anywhere long enough to keep a specific one. The sound only adds to the mystery of his past. According to my files, Riley has periods of missing years where no one knows where he spent his time.

"No. Do you?"

"No, but I admire the color choices," he says cryptically.

Turning to look at the painting again, I can now see a menacing aspect to the blackness, some parts highlighted with drips of maroon and dark purple. He probably sees violence and pain.

"Champagne?" He asks, grabbing two flutes from a passing server. He steps closer to hand it to me, the smell of sophistication and mint overpowering my senses.

"I hear that you are an up-and-comer in the federal court system." His eyes run up and down my body, his mouth curling into a seductive smirk.

"I just do my job." I refuse to add fuel to his game.

"Working on any interesting cases?" he whispers, lifting his hand to glide his pinky along the strap of my dress.

Before I can respond, a curt voice rings out from behind me. "Riley Biers. I don't remember inviting you to this party." My body unconsciously relaxes at the sound.

Edward glides around and inserts himself seamlessly between Riley and myself. The move was obviously purposeful; Edward's defensive body language reminds me of the night he walked me home. He's in full protective mode.

"Edward Cullen. You can't blame me for wanting to confirm the rumors of your relocation. Besides, you will soon realize that in _my_ city, I can get into any event I want." Riley grips Edward's hand firmly and smiles, although it's clear there is no warmth between the two men.

"Your city? Interesting," Edward utters with a calculated grin. "I decided it was time to expand, and since San Francisco holds a special place in my heart, I thought why not start here."

"I certainly understand the pull. San Francisco is filled with beauty." Riley tilts his head to the side, once again gazing up and down my body. His stare makes me shiver. As if sensing my discomfort, Edward immediately shifts to block his view. Riley scoffs and turns his attention back to Edward. "I hear you're trying to purchase some property down by the wharf. Seems like a gamble." The wharf is one of Riley's strong holds. There is an unspoken threat lingering in his tone.

"I don't know about that. Change is a good thing, don't you think?" Edward responds cockily.

"Hmm, only time will tell, I guess." He raises his glass in a mock salute. "Well, I think I will continue to look around. You don't mind if I stay do you?"

"Why not, in fact, enjoy. This is a worthy cause, and I'm sure that an upstanding business man like yourself has plenty to donate."

"Touché," Riley laughs and walks away. Taking only a couple of steps, he turns to address me again. "Oh, I was sorry to hear about your father, Ms. Swan. I hope they find the bastards."

After dropping the ominous words, he moves forward and becomes lost in the mingling crowd. The room is suddenly stifling. As far as I'm concerned, Riley's obscure message just confirms that he had something to do with my dad's murder.

"Are you okay?" Edward whispers, looking deeply into my eyes.

"I'm fine," I whisper back, trying to regain my composure.

"Are you sure? What did he say before I came over?" Edward's hand moves to cover my shoulder, but drops quickly when I glare at it.

"Nothing. You don't need to worry about me."

He huffs out a quiet laugh. "I think that's impossible," he mutters. It is hard to know if he meant for me to hear the statement. "Why did he ask about your dad? Do you know Riley well?"

"I don't know why he would ask," I lie. I need to call Sam and let him know about our conversation. Riley's question about my job also suggests that he knows we're getting ready to prosecute. This whole thing just doesn't feel right.

"You're sure?" Edward questions. He probably knows that I'm being less than forthcoming, but what does he expect?

"I'm sure. How do _you _know Riley?" It's hard to imagine a circumstance where their paths would have crossed.

"I don't really. We've run into each other a couple of times, that's all," he says evasively.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" I snap unable to contain my frustration. I'm tired of not having answers.

"No, but it's the best I can offer right now." His face is full of regret, but he doesn't say anything else.

"Right," I mumble angrily trying to fill the awkward silence. Maybe it's best if I don't know the details. The thought of having to add Edward to my list of Riley's known associates is just too much. Clearing my throat, I decide to explore a safer topic.

"Quite the shindig. I was surprised to hear the name of the company sponsoring it," I comment with a deliberate look. Edward knows that I'm aware of his hatred towards this company. The memory has never faded; I can still feel how tightly he held onto me as he expelled his feelings by candlelight.

"Umm, yeah, a lot has happened."

"I bet," I grumble, taking a long sip of champagne.

Edward looks around the room, "Look, this isn't the best place to get into it, but –"

"You don't owe me an explanation, Edward. What you've done over the last three years is none of my business."

Edward reaches out and grabs my hand, my breath automatically hitching when I feel the familiar current. I can't believe that time has not changed it. "Bella," he whispers, his fingers gently rubbing mine.

"Edward." A throaty voice breaks the moment. "It's time to present the check."

The woman from earlier walks over and lays her hand on Edward's arm. She is even more beautiful close up. Her red gown clings to her body in all the right places, her blond hair flawlessly swept to the side with a jeweled clip. Turning back, I realize that Edward has not let go of my hand and is glaring at the woman beside him.

"I need a few minutes, Kate," he barks. His reaction solidifies my earlier belief that there is probably nothing going on between them.

"I'm sorry, but everyone is waiting. I'm sure you can get back to," she pauses giving me the once over, "this later."

"Actually, it can't wait. Will you tell them that I—"

"Edward, its fine. Go." I jump in. He swings his now panicked eyes back to mine. "Really it's fine. This event is important to Alice. I don't want anything to go wrong on my account. We can talk later."

"You promise?" he asks, his hold on my hand tightening.

"I'll be here," I reply vaguely. If waiting around to finish the conversation means I can help Alice, I'll do it, but that doesn't mean I have to talk about anything in detail.

"See, problem solved. Let's go," Kate says, grabbing Edward's arm, effectively pulling his hand from mine.

Edward keeps his focus on me. "I'll find you as soon as I'm done, okay."

"Okay," I whisper, taken aback by the desperation I see in his eyes.

As Kate leads him away, Edward turns and looks for me a couple of times, as if needing to make sure that I'm staying. Several minutes later, Alice's voice comes over the loud speakers announcing Edward's presentation. Slowly, everyone starts moving towards the small stage in the main gallery.

I linger behind for a moment, unsure of whether I want to witness his performance. Seeing it will challenge everything I thought I knew. Gathering courage, I follow the crowd, convincing myself that I need to see the truth. Hiding in the shadows, I watch as Edward glides across the stage to take command of the microphone. I'm sure hearts are swooning at the sight; his beauty is intoxicating.

"Good evening everyone, thank you for coming. How about a round of applause for our hosts?" The crowd claps wildly as Edward graciously points to Alice and her assistant. "I'm thrilled with the turn out and your huge generosity. I firmly believe that children are our most important assets and Children's United ensures that every child has the support and resource they need to reach their full potential."

His words pull on my heart, a ghost of a memory haunting me.

_"How about you? Do you see children in your future?" Edward kisses my temple as his arms tighten around me. The combination adds another dimension to the feelings in my fluttering heart. _

_"I never thought much about it…until now." Reaching up, I kiss his smiling lips. _

Shaking free of the memory, I focus back on the stage. Edward hands a large check to an elderly man who is the charity's representative. Both turn and smile for the photographer before shaking hands. I watch as Edward effortlessly socializes with everyone on the stage. Fascinated by his dance, the melody of a waltz plays in my head as I watch his repeated steps. Glide, shake, chat, and smile. He's obviously used to this scene.

I need to leave.

Now that the success of Alice's event is no longer in jeopardy, I feel no guilt in sneaking away before Edward tracks me down. Seeing Alice step off the stage, I weave my way closer while still trying to stay hidden from Edward's penetrating stare. Catching her attention, I wave her over.

"You okay?" she asks reaching me quickly.

"I'm fine, but I think I'm going to get going."

"Of course," she says, glancing behind her in Edward's direction. I can't fool her; she knows exactly why I want to leave.

"It was a great event, Al. This is really going to get the museum on the map."

Smiling, she pulls me into a tight embrace. "Thank you for staying."

"I would do anything for you. You're my family," I whisper.

Pulling back, she rewards me with a brilliant smile and then grabs my hand. "Okay, let's get you out of here."

"Is there a back entrance? I want to avoid the crowds and press if possible."

"Umm yeah, but we need to go that way." She points towards the room I was in earlier, which means passing by the stage again. "Just ignore him if he sees you."

"Like I would flag him down," I mutter sarcastically. "Let's go."

Alice leads me quickly through the mingling bodies. As we pass the stage, I keep my eyes focused on her, hoping that Edward doesn't spot me. Moving into the next room, I see Riley leaning against the far wall. His unyielding eyes track my movements while he talks on the phone. Picking up the pace when he throws me a sinister smile, I accidentally run into Alice.

"Are you okay?" Alice glances over her shoulder with concern.

"I just want to get out of here," I say, unable to look away from his probing eyes.

"Who's that?" Alice questions, looking over to see what's grab my attention.

"Riley Biers."

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"I have no idea," I answer vaguely, thinking about the confrontation earlier. He's obviously here to prove a point to Edward, but for what gain, I don't know.

Stopping, she pulls out her phone. "I'll have him thrown out."

"No!" I don't want Alice on his radar. "Don't get involved with this, Alice. He's not hurting anything. Just leave it alone."

She looks at me for a moment before thankfully relenting. "Okay, I'll leave it for now, but I think you should tell Jasper."

"I will," I state with a tight smile, not looking forward to that phone call. "Where is this exit?" I ask, shifting my focus back to Alice.

"It's this way, come on."

I feel Riley's gaze until Alice pulls me into a small hallway effectively breaking his line of sight. Turning the corner, I see a large door at the end with an exit sign above it.

"It leads into the alley on the side of the building. That should give you enough distance to avoid the press at the entrance," Alice states unlocking the door.

"Thanks."

"Text me when you get home."

"Will do. You did great tonight. I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks. I love you, Bella."

"I love you too."

With one last hug goodbye, I step into the freedom of chilly night air. Enjoying the solitude, I lean against the wall trying to process everything that's happened recently. The fractured parts of my life are mysteriously intersecting, but the how's are unclear, and I'm not sure if there is a way to resolve it without everything falling apart.

The quiet abruptly ends when the door ricochets off the wall, jolting me back from my wandering thoughts. Startled, I turn to find Edward frantically looking around, his harried movements stopping only when his eyes find mine.

"Bella," he sighs in relief slowly walking over. "I thought you were going to wait for me?"

"Well, you don't always get what you want," I bite back bitterly, pushing away from the wall.

"I guess we're back at square one," he responds sadly.

"We never left square one! What did you expect? That you could suddenly reappear, drop off gifts, and then everything would be fixed?"

"I—," He starts before I cut him off angrily.

"You left, Edward! You! You can't just take that back."

"Don't you think I know that?" His chest moves in and out with heavy breaths. "This wasn't how I wanted to do this. I had a plan. I just needed a little more time and then I was going to come to you and explain everything." He pauses, seemingly searching for words. "Fucking Emmett," he murmurs angrily.

"You're seriously telling me that you didn't know that I'd be here tonight? At Alice's event?"

"I didn't know she worked here, I swear. My assistant worked out all the details. It would seem that the world is working against me," he scoffs cynically.

"Well then, screw your plan. Explain it to me now."

He pauses, a strange combination of hope and fear shining in his eye. "I had to leave. In many ways, I really didn't have a choice."

"You _had_ to leave? With no warning? No goodbye? Why? So you could run the company you swore you'd never work at? So you could associate with the likes of Riley Biers? Sounds like a cop-out to me."

"That's not what happened," Edwards argues taking a step closer, frustration rolling off him.

"Are you or are you not running your grandfather's company?"

He hesitates, silently opens his mouth several times before finally conceding. "Yes."

"Then what else is there to say."

"A lot damn it!" he yells pacing back and forth. "Fuck, I shouldn't be here with you. This is not how I wanted this discussion to go. But as soon as I saw you…I couldn't…walking away again wasn't an option."

"You're not making any sense." He obviously wants to tell me something, but his words aren't connecting. "What about all of your plans? Jesus, you were on the eligible employment list at the S.F.P.D. and had finally taken a stand against your family. How does that suddenly change? How do you end up right where you never wanted to be?"

Edward barks out a sour laugh. "Believe me, I've asked myself that same question more often than you could possibly know." He looks up with solemn eyes. "I've learned the hard way that you can't always run from your past, but I'm trying like hell to fix it. Except nothing is working out the way I planned."

An agonizing breath escapes my lips. "Well, welcome to the club," I retort, sarcasm scorching my words.

"Bella, that's not what I meant. I'm not minimizing what you've been through." Edward quickly back pedals.

"You don't know shit about what I've been through!"

Realizing he's crossed a line, Edward steps back, remorse flooding his face. This probably doesn't fall in line with his _grand_ plan either. A loud ringtone interrupts the uncomfortable standoff. Keeping my eyes trained on Edward, I pull my phone out of my purse.

"What?" I yell into the device.

"Are they serving anything else at this bash beside tiny pieces of toast with stuff on it?" A disembodied voice comments as though we're already in the middle of a conversation.

"Sam?"

"Where the hell are you? This art is freaking me out."

"You're here?" I ask incredulously. Edward stares at me curiously.

"Yes, and I've been trying to find you for a while. I'm about to start a round of Marco Polo, which by the looks of the guests won't go over too well. Something tells me that they are not your typical Marco Polo crowd. So, how about we avoid embarrassment and you can just tell me where to find you."

"Marco Polo? Really?"

"It's a classic."

The ridiculous nature of his comment makes me laugh. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"

"Jasper Whitlock. I stopped by your house, but when you weren't there, I called your office to see if you were working late. He told me where you were when I explained that I had some critical information."

"Why didn't you just call my cell?"

"I guess that would have been easier," he remarks chuckling. "But once I knew where you were, I decided to come here instead. I didn't think you wanted to discuss this over the phone."

"Is it about—"I stop still looking at Edward, deciding not to talk about my father in front of him.

"Your dad," Sam says, answering my unspoken question. "I thought you'd want to know right away."

"Yeah I do. I'm in the alley on the side of the building. Ask for Alice Whitlock, she'll tell you how to get here."

"Okay, see you in a bit," he answers quickly before ending the call.

"Who was that?" Edward asks as soon as I hang up.

"Just a FBI agent I'm working a case with."

"And he came _here_ to see _you_?" Edward asks suspiciously.

"I guess so," I answer evasively.

Before Edward can ask for clarification, the door swings open. "You're a hard woman to track down." Sam stops suddenly realizing that I'm not alone.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything." Sam glances at Edward, looking him up and down. Edward's stands taller in response.

"You're not."

Edward's eyes swing back to mine. "Bella," he says quietly stepping forward again trying to keep Sam out of the conversation. "I don't want to leave things like this. Can we go somewhere? I'll go anywhere you want."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I contend trying to ignore his anguish.

"Please," he begs stepping even closer. I can almost feel his body heat; the electricity between us tangible.

"Everything okay?" Sam questions, breaking the undeniable pull I feel towards the man in front of me.

"Everything is fine." Edward responds icily turning to glare at him.

"Its fine," I reassure Sam, using the distraction to back away from Edward. It's hard to think with him so near. "Edward, I'd think it would be best if we talk another time."

"When?" Taking half of a step forward he abruptly stops, begrudgingly respecting the distance I just created.

"I don't know. I'll let you know."

Edward stands stiffly, his hands flexing at his sides. I know he wants to argue, but he also understands that it won't get him far. I've always done things in my own way and in my own time. Ironically, Edward used to love that quality. I suspect he also knows that it will be his biggest roadblock.

"Okay, but I'm not going anywhere."

Edward reaches out and pulls me towards him. My brain doesn't fully register the intention behind the move until his lips are already on mine. His left arm wraps me in a gentle caress, as his right hand reaches up to cup my face. I'm lost. My body ignites in long forgotten sensations. Lust, desire…love. Then just as quickly, he drops his arms to let me go.

"I know you feel that as much as I do, Bella. It's never gone away."

I gape at him stunned. I can't deny the power of the kiss, but my logical mind reminds me that it doesn't change anything.

Sam clears his throat loudly before I can find the words to respond. "I think the lady said she wanted to go," he says gruffly, moving to stand next to me.

"I don't think that this conversation is any of your business," Edward snaps, stepping into Sam's space, his stance taking on a deadly air. It scares me.

Instead of waiting for things to escalate, I quickly grab Sam's arm to drag him away. "Come on, let's go."

"Fine," Sam spits out, reluctantly following my lead.

"Goodbye, Edward," I utter. His eyes locked on my every movement.

Before I can get far, Edward grabs my arm to stop me. "Bella." His fingers rub my wrist, the sensation making it difficult to concentrate.

"Please," I whisper, noticing Sam's shifting stance. I have to separate these two before things spiral out of control. "Let me go."

"I'm not giving up. I'm going to fix _everything_, I promise."

His grip loosens, but he doesn't let go completely. Walking backwards, my hand slowly slips through his fingers until the distance finally separates us. He glances quickly to Sam before looking back with an impenetrable stare.

"Remember, Bella, things aren't always what they seem."

**What did Sam find out and what will Edward do next? Find out next week! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Sunday! Thank you so much for all the reviews and notifications! I love reading your theories and opinions on all the characters. **

**A huge shout out to Nic and TLS. I'm honored that you rec'd this story on your site. :) **

**Beautifulnightmarex, TDS88, and LostInPA deserve some extra gratitude this week. Work was a bit crazy so I got this one to them late, and they still turned it around in time to keep on schedule. They rock!**

**As usual, I own nothing, but it would be awesome if I did. **

**Enjoy! **

Chapter 5: Say Something

_"I asked her if she believed in love, and she smiled and said it was her most elaborate method of self-harm."_

_Benedict Smith_

* * *

><p><em>The ebb and flow of the waves hypnotically rock the surfboard as the swells crash around me. The contrast of the unusually warm mid-morning sun and cold water makes me feel alive and invigorated. The calming sensations and picture perfect visual is exactly the reason I come out here after a particularly difficult week. <em>

_"So, this is your stress reliever?" Edward asks sitting beside me on his own board. _

_"Yup. It's so humbling looking out across the ocean. It reminds me to keep things in perspective. Surfing is all about just being, you know. The more you fight, the more difficult it becomes. But when you let go and follow the rhythm of the waves, great things happen."_

_"You sound like a Zen master," Edward teases, splashing me. _

_"Shut up! I'm trying to have a spiritual moment here," I retort, splashing him back with a little more force._

_"Oh really. That's how it is, huh?" Edward taunts, dramatically dipping his hand into the water preparing to splash me again. _

_"Don't even—"_

_"What?" he asks innocently._

_I open my mouth to give him another warning when a huge wave crashes over me. Recovering quickly, I reach over and push him off his board, his legs flailing as he falls awkwardly into the surf. The victory is short-lived, however, when something unexpectedly pulls on my leg, my body plunging into the water before I can counter the unexpected attack. Breaching the surface again, I come face to face with a grinning Edward. _

_"You think that's funny, huh?" _

_"I think it's hilarious," he laughs. _

_Reaching out, I try to push his head under, but he skillfully thwarts my move by grabbing me and pulling me in. "Careful now. We don't want to drown," he warns huskily, our noses close enough to touch. _

_The fire in his eyes makes my body shiver before his mouth descends upon mine. The kiss deepens as I wrap my legs around his waist. He tastes like salt, ocean, and Edward; the combination strangely exciting. _

_"As much as I'm enjoying this, we will definitely drown if we keep this up." Edward mumbles running his lips down my neck._

_"You're no fun." I pout. "It's quiet out here today. Where's your sense of adventure?" _

_"Hmmm, adventurous. I'll have to remember that when we're not in the Pacific Ocean, attached to surfboards and dressed in wet suits. Not the easiest place to have some 'adventure'." _

_"Details," I murmur begrudgingly getting back on my board. "But once we're back on land…" I trail off with a pointed look. _

_"Ms. Swan?! I do believe you are propositioning me." He winks before easing himself back on his board as well. _

_"Maybe," I respond flirtatiously._

_"I think this salt air brings out your feisty side. I like it." Pulling my surfboard closer, he leans over to give me another passion-filled kiss. Accidentally tilting the board, I almost fall into the water again. "Careful," he murmurs running his nose along my cheek. _

_"For someone so concerned about drowning, you really aren't helping things." Paddling out of his reach, I decide to change the topic for both of our sakes. "Okay, I shared my favorite stress reliever. What's yours?" _

_"Probably running. It's a great way to pound out the stress, but I like this too. It's been a while since I surfed so thanks for taking me out here. I really needed it today."_

_Several hours ago, Edward showed up at my house an agitated mess. It was the first time I had seen him that upset. All he wanted to do was hold me, refusing to tell me what was wrong. After an hour of agonizing silence, I decided that he needed a distraction. _

_"What had you so stressed earlier?" I ask cautiously. _

_Edward focuses on the horizon for a moment before answering. "My family." _

_"You never talk about them." _

_"It's not an easy subject." His jaw clenches, the words barely escaping his lips. _

_"I'm here to listen if you want to talk."_

_Edward keeps his focus ahead, saying nothing. Just when I'm about to apologize for pushing, he finally speaks. _

_"My grandfather is a cruel man," he starts lowly. "All he cares about is money and power. He expects, no, demands that I follow in his footsteps."_

_"What about your parents? What do they think?"_

_"Esme and Carlisle?" he scoffs. "My sperm donor of a father ran off when I was five. I don't think my mother ever recovered from his betrayal. After he left, we moved in with my grandfather. Being back in that house changed her. It was as if she became a ghost. She stopped standing up for herself and grew more attached to material things. After years of trying to help her, I finally accepted that the mother I remember when I was little died the day my father abandoned us. Besides, if there were any parts of her left, she decided to finish them off with pills and booze. As far as I'm concerned, she's dug her own grave," he spits out harshly, holding the board tightly. _

_"I'm sorry," I whisper reaching across to rub his neck, my fingers gliding through the bottom of his wet hair trying to soothe his anger. _

_It's hard to know exactly what to say. I knew his family was a sore spot, but I can see that this is crushing him. It makes me appreciate my dad even more. He worked harder after my mother died to make sure he could provide everything that I needed. I don't want to think about how different my life would be if he had given up. My dad is always my biggest supporter, whereas it sounds like Edward never has anyone in his corner. Maybe I can be that for him now. _

_"What happened today?" _

_"A lecture about expectations," he pauses exhaling loudly. "He actually wants to meet you. My mother must have mentioned something to him." _

_"When?" _

_Edward turns to me with wide eyes. "There's no way I'm going to allow him near you. I won't let that world touch you, Bella, no matter what I have to do." _

* * *

><p>The long forgotten conversation now takes on a different context. I should have paid more attention to what he was saying. Maybe then I would have a better understanding of what is happening now. It's hard to look into Edward's eyes and not see the man I fell in love with. If only I could reconcile that with his behavior. Is that what he meant about not everything being as it seems?<p>

Walking out of the alley with Sam, I can't help but glance back one more time. Edward hasn't moved, but is in the middle of what looks like a heated conversation on his phone. As if sensing my gaze, Edward raises his head, his eyes piercing as he tries to communicate all the things left unsaid.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks, breaking the spell.

"Umm, there's a diner a few blocks down. It's usually slow this time of night."

"Sounds good." Turning the corner, we walk closely side by side, his arm brushing mine from time to time.

"Go ahead. I know you want to ask," I voice defensively.

"I do have a curious nature," he smirks sarcastically before becoming serious again. "It looks like there's a story there."

"That's the understatement of the year," I grumble.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I honestly don't even know where to start."

"Who is he? I swear I've seen his face before."

"Edward Cullen."

"Cullen? As in the Cullen that runs Global Security?" Sam stops, grasping my arm to halt my movement.

"Yes," I say tentatively. "You know it?"

"Global Security has been on the FBI watch list for years."

"For what?"

"A wide range of suspicious behaviors. The company has associations with several high-powered crime organizations. It's widely believed that they are dirty, but there's no concrete proof."

"How long have they been under investigation?" I ask cautiously, my heart pounding. _What will I do if he says within the last three years?_

"Decades." Sam replies to my relief. "The founder and CEO was the suspected mastermind behind their illegal activity. He was also quite the evil puppeteer from what I understand. When he passed away a few years ago, the agents working the case thought that Global would be out of the game. Then all of sudden, his grandson, your friend I assume, stepped in. How well do you know Cullen?"

"I don't know," I whisper. My head is swimming with questions and possibilities. _His grandfather is dead?_

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I thought I knew who Edward was, but now…I just don't know."

"Well, I recommend steering clear, especially when we are trying to solidify the case against Biers. Between that and the suspicions about your dad's murder, your involvement could ruin any chance of a conviction."

"I know." He's right, it's time for me to step away from the official investigation. His statement, however, fuels another question. "Is there a connection between Riley and Edward?" I'm intrigued that he would make such a comment given that he didn't witness the confrontation earlier.

"From what I understand, they run in the same circles, but I haven't found any direct connections during my investigation. Although it sounds like Global has a little more finesse in how they go about things compared to Biers."

"What do you mean?"

"Biers isn't necessarily subtle with his actions. Global Security is all ghosts and myths. Biers' case is challenging, but Global is almost impossible to get a handle on."

"I see."

His description fits with what I witnessed between Edward and Riley even though the implications are hard to stomach. Regardless of our personal history, I can't wrap my head around the idea that Edward would involve himself in something illegal. It goes against everything I thought I knew about him.

An unintentional bump by a passerby reminds me of the public nature of our current location. "How about we continue our conversation at the diner," I suggest, glancing around at all the people.

"Of course," Sam agrees, releasing my arm so we can go.

It takes several minutes to get to the hole-in-the-wall eatery, both of us walking in an uncomfortable silence. As I suspected, it is practically empty this time of night. A few patrons are eating at the bar while a couple of others are at tables enjoying quiet conversations. The smell of fresh coffee and sinfully greasy food fills the air. The relaxed atmosphere makes me a feel a bit out of place in my fancy dress, although no one seems to acknowledge our presence as we walk through the room. Finding a booth in the back corner, Sam and I sit across from each other and order a cup of coffee from a perky waitress.

After she walks away, I get down to business. "What did you find out? Was my dad investigating Riley?"

"No," Sam says fidgeting in his chair nervously.

"What aren't you telling me?" My heart beats wildly watching him struggle. I know that look; he's preparing to tell me something bad.

"I talked to the lead detective. He was more difficult than I expected about releasing any information. After a couple of heated phone calls and involvement from some higher-ups, he finally agreed to share what he knows."

"And?" I ask impatiently. I don't care about the politics, I just want some answers.

"How much do you know about your dad's finances?"

His question throws me. "Umm, a lot. I've had to deal with them since his death."

"Then you know how bad things were."

"Y-yes," I respond suspiciously, not liking the direction this conversation is taking.

"Listen, Bella. I don't know exactly how to tell you this without just coming out with it."

"What is it?" I can't fathom what is making him so nervous. Was someone after my father? Are they covering something up?

He takes another moment before raising his eyes to mine, holding my stare. "While investigating your dad's murder, Seattle PD found some troubling things in his personal life. It triggered an Internal Affairs investigation on your dad and other officers in his squad."

It takes a while to process his words. I know that I must have heard him wrong because what I think he said doesn't make any sense. "What the hell are you talking about?" I growl.

"Bella, they think that he was involved in some illegal activity."

My vision narrows, focusing on Sam's anxious face. I don't think rage covers the amount of fury swirling in my body. "My dad was _not_ dirty!"

"They found a hidden bank account, a hefty one at that. He opened it several months after his finances fell apart."

"That doesn't make any sense. He had tons of debt. Why would that be if he supposedly had all this money?" I scoff.

"Because he was smart. If he suddenly paid everything off, it would be too suspicious. He was taking out just enough to stay afloat."

"No. No!" I yell shaking my head back and forth. "You're wrong. _They_ are wrong!" A couple of the patrons turn to look at us, but I don't care.

"Hey, I get it, I do. But there are a lot of things that don't add up, especially the circumstances of his death," Sam argues.

"There's not enough evidence to prove anything, remember?" I sneer.

"Exactly! No strung out criminal looking for easy cash is going to get away that clean. And what about that drawing?"

"What the hell," I hiss leaning over the table. "You go from not wanting to draw any conclusions, to deciding that my dad was a criminal? Just like that?"

"No, I'm just saying that there are a lot of missing pieces, and I don't think we can rule anything out at this point."

"I don't need evidence to prove that my dad wouldn't do anything illegal. I know who he was."

"I understand, but your word isn't enough to clear him. Look, tomorrow I'm meeting with my director to push the possible connection to Biers and get jurisdiction over your father's case. Then I'm going to fly up to Seattle and exam what they have. I'll find the truth, Bella, I promise."

"And the truth will exonerate him," I declare, daring him to disagree. Sam simply nods his head, placating me. I know he doesn't want to give me false hope, but he didn't know my dad. They are wrong, end of story. "Will you keep in contact? I need to know what's going on."

Reaching across the table, he grabs my hand. "Of course. I'm on your side, Bella."

The sincerity I see reflected in his eyes eases my anxiety. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you're going up there."

"I told you we would figure it out. I won't give up until we have answers."

Now it's my turn to nod, the heated emotions that were churning earlier, now waning to weariness. I had hoped that Sam would find answers. Instead, all we have are more questions. It's starting to feel like this will never end.

"Let's get you home," Sam suggests.

"It's fine, I can just take a cab," I mutter throwing some cash on the table for the coffee before putting on my coat.

"I insist. What kind of guy would I be if I let a beautiful girl take a cab home this late at night?" he asks with a charismatic grin. I've come to realize that humor and charm are Sam's go to solution to ease tension.

I smile shyly at his compliment. "Okay, thanks."

Leaving the diner, we walk several blocks back towards the museum. Sam walks quietly beside me seeming to understand my need to process things internally. I'm not in the mood to talk anymore. Sam leads me to a parking lot a block north of the entrance to the museum, luckily allowing us to bypass the crowd.

"I'm right here," he utters, pointing to a dark sedan. There's a spotlight mounted on the driver's side, so I assume that this is his assigned work vehicle.

Unlocking the car, he walks around to open the door for me before walking to his side. As I get in, a moving shadow to the side of the building catches my attention. For a second, I think I see a person standing by the corner, but when I look again, nothing is there. My eyes are just playing tricks on me, my logical brain argues, although a part of me is glad that I decided to take Sam up on his offer. Maybe tonight is not a good night to travel alone.

The drive is silent, broken only when Sam asks if I'm warm enough. I'm surprised when the car slows in front of my house, in my preoccupied haze, I'd missed how far we had traveled. Double-parking along my sidewalk, Sam turns to look at me.

"I know this wasn't what you expected to hear, and you probably have a million thoughts running through your head, but try to get some rest tonight. You won't do anybody any good if you make yourself sick. Your dad would want you to take care of yourself."

The truth of his statement hurts. It just reminds me how disappointed my dad would be with my recent behavior. "I know," I whisper looking down.

Reaching over, he lifts my chin and gently places his hand on the side of my face. "It will be okay, one way or another. You're strong, Bella. I saw it the moment you walked into my office and put me in my place." Smiling, he leans across me to open the passenger door. "Now go get some sleep, and I'll call you when I get to Seattle."

"I'll try. Have a safe trip and be careful."

"I will. You take care too," he says seriously. "I'll wait here until you get inside."

Giving him a grateful smile, I get out of the car and walk quickly to my door. After unlocking it, I turn to wave, letting him know that I'm good. Standing in the doorway, I wait until he drives off before going inside and locking the door.

Ambling into the living room, I drop my purse, jacket, and step out of my shoes. I can't even pretend to care about picking them up. This is all wrong. It doesn't matter what the evidence says, my dad wasn't dirty. I knew him better than anyone else did. There wasn't a dark speck on his soul or heart. He was almost too optimistic, especially given his line of work and losing his wife so young. He wouldn't take the easy way out, and he was not a man easily seduced by money or power.

Flopping down on the reading chair, I grab the graduation picture focusing on his smiling face. "I won't let them destroy your name."

Glancing across the room, I see the legal papers piled on my desk, the ones I've not had the strength to open, not to mention the boxes hidden in my closet. What if the answers were right in front of me the entire time? I shake my head, disgusted by myself. My dad was always there to support me, and yet the one time he needed me, I fall apart.

"No more."

With determination, I stand up and walk over to my desk to grab the pile of paper. Moving to the dining room table, I shove Riley's files to the side to make some room. Taking out a fresh legal pad and pen, I sit down and start opening envelopes. If there is any information in here, I'm going to find it.

* * *

><p>A beeping breaks through my unconsciousness. Turning my head, I groan when a sharp pain shoots through my neck and papers scratch my face. Disoriented, I sit up only to find myself at the dining room table surrounded by a dark house. Grabbing my phone, I discover that it's already eight o'clock at night. I must have passed out sometime this afternoon.<p>

"Oh god," I mumble standing to stretch, my bones cracking loudly. Apparently, my angry body wants me to pay for sleeping in such an awkward position.

Switching on a light, I'm taken back by the impact of my frantic search. There are papers and boxes strewn between my living and dining room. Some of the items are in organized piles, while others are still in disarray. I spent all night focused on going through the documents, my desire for answers offsetting the difficulty of being surround by my father's things.

When the early morning sun started to peek into the windows, I had just started on the boxes. Not wanting to stop before I found answers, I called into work so that I could continue my quest. Even though I've gone through more than half of the boxes, I still have not found anything that would explain my dad's connection to Riley or Internal Affairs' suspicions.

Sam called earlier this afternoon, letting me know that he made it to Seattle. The detective he is meeting with had already left for the day, so he said he probably wouldn't have any information until tomorrow. After we got off the phone, he was going to visit where the shooting took place to see if Riley owned any of the buildings in the surrounding area. Although it was disappointing not to have any more information, he promised to check in around noon tomorrow to give me an update.

My blinking phone beeps again indicating several missed calls and messages. Holding the phone to my ear, I listen to the most recent one.

"Bella, we are all here waiting. I've worked on this case for a freaking year. Come on! Come play with us," Rose demands sweetly.

Going through the other messages, I piece together that Rose finished the Crowley case early, with a solid confession no less. To celebrate, the gang headed to the Fillmore for drinks. Rose's plea breaks through another barrier. Although celebrating is the last thing on my mind, I realize that I need to see my friends. It's time to stop pretending that I can do this on my own. Over the last five months I've lost sight of what matters, of who matters, and that I have always been stronger with them than without them.

After showering, I walk the familiar and busy path to the Fillmore. Tonight the rhythm of the city soothes me. It's hard to explain why, but it feels like I've finally turned an important corner. The fire I feel to clear my dad is also forcing me to look at the other parts of my life that need repair, my relationship with my friends being the most important of those.

"Bella!" Paul shouts as soon as I step into the main room. Since it's a local band night, the atmosphere is lower key than the last time I was there. Rushing over, Paul pulls me into a loving hug. "It's good to see you. Does this mean we _finally _get to catch up?"

"Umm, I'd like that, but I'm kind of on a mission. Rain check?" Paul eyes me suspiciously. I've fed him that empty line one too many times. "I know, I've said that a lot lately, but I mean it this time."

"Uh-huh, I'm going to hold you to that," he utters giving me the once over. "You look tired, Sweetie. Are you okay?"

"No, but I'm trying to be," I answer truthfully.

Paul gives me a knowing smile. He understands the winding road of grief better than most. "Well, I guess that's something now, isn't it? Come on. Let's go find your peeps," he says throwing his arm around my shoulder.

Smiling, I look up at him. "Paul, I love you, but don't ever say the word 'peeps' again. You'll ruin your tough guy rep."

A robust laugh burst from his lips causing me to laugh along with him. "You're probably right, but I got you to smile, didn't I?" Strolling into the poster room, I spot my friends easily.

"Hey, Rosie, look who finally showed up!" Paul immediately yells across the room.

Looking up, Rose quickly moves around the table to come meet us. "You made it!"

"My job here is done, you've been successfully delivered." Paul smirks. "I should probably get back to work. Still no Emmett?"

"Not yet, he should be here soon though," Rose replies looking at her watch.

"I'll keep my eye out for him," Paul says with a wink before striding back towards the main room.

"Thank you!" I yell at his retreating form before turning my attention back to Rose's blissful face. The Crowley case was draining with lots of stalls and dead ends. She must feel relieved to have it resolved successfully. "Congratulations."

"Thanks! It went better than expected. We had enough evidence to force a confession. He was almost in a little ball crying by the time we were finished."

"Umm, prosecutor remember," I say pointing to myself. "I probably don't want to hear about what may or may not have 'forced' a confession."

Recognizing that I'm just giving her a hard time, Rose gives me a sarcastic grin. "God, I love it when they break down. Does that make me a little off?" she questions.

"Probably, but since I know exactly what you mean, at least we can be 'off' together," I joke in return.

"True! Let's go drink to that." Arm in arm, Rose and I walk back to the table where Alice and Jasper are smiling widely.

"I'm mad at you," Alice says as soon as we reach the table. "You forgot to text me last night."

"Oh, crap, I completely forgot."

"Hey, you okay? It's not like you to miss work." Jasper evaluates me closely.

Contemplating his question, the playfulness I felt earlier swiftly fades away. "Not really. I need your help."

The chatting abruptly ends as three sets of eyes look at me stunned. I don't blame them; I've given them nothing but excuses and white lies for months.

"What's going on?" Jasper asks seriously, turning all of his attention to me.

Alice gives me a supportive smile. She probably thinks that this has to do with Riley showing up last night. Opening my mouth, everything about Riley, Sam, my dad, and Edward comes rushing out in one hurried breath. It takes me several minutes, but I'm able to purge it all to the horror of my friends.

"This is bullshit!" Rose yells. "Charlie's dirty, my ass. Fuck them."

"There is no way Charlie would do that," Alice agrees.

"What has Sam found out?" Jasper asks. Although he is usually the calm in the middle of the storm, I can see rage shining in his eyes.

"Nothing yet, but I won't let this go. They can't destroy him."

"They won't, Bella. We won't let them." Rose declares crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. "We'll start our own investigation if we need to."

"Let's be realistic, Rose," Jasper warns.

"What do you mean realistic?" Rose asks defensively.

"All of us are way too close to this case. Bella, you need to recuse yourself first thing in the morning. You should have done it as soon as you suspected a connection. Riley's lawyers will be all over this as a conflict of interest. And Rose, don't you think that you suddenly getting involved will be just a tad problematic given you are one of Bella's closest friend."

"Point well taken," Rose says quietly.

"You're right," I mutter in agreement. "I should have talked to Mike today, but I don't trust anyone else besides you to take it."

"Bella, you know I can't do that," Jasper says sadly.

"I know!" I yell frustrated. "But this is my dad. I just can't turn the case over to anyone."

"What about Garrett?" Jasper suggests.

"The new guy?" I ask.

"Is he good?" Alice follows up.

"I did his orientation. He's sharp and successfully prosecuted some pretty high-profile cases in the New York Superior Court before transferring to us. Most importantly, he doesn't have any ties that the defense could use to get Riley off."

I ponder his suggestion. I need to trust Jasper's judgment and do this right. This will all be for nothing if Riley walks free. "Fine. I'll meet with Mike first thing in the morning. You have to help me convince him to give it to Garrett though."

"No problem, Mike owes me for fixing that case earlier this week."

"Well, I can at least get in touch with Sam and see if he needs any extra resources," Rose says conceding to the fact that she can't actively pursue an investigation.

"What do we do in the meantime?" Alice inquires. "I doubt that any of us will be able to just sit around and do nothing."

"I still have a lot of my dad's stuff to go through and organize. I'm hoping that there is something in there that will help shed some light on this fucked up situation."

"We can help with that, right?" Alice asks as Rose and Jasper nod their heads eagerly. "Good, we'll go to your house tomorrow after work."

Looking around the table, I'm struck with what an idiot I've been. For months I've allowed the darkness to beat me instead of seeing that light has always surrounded me. "Thank you," I whisper, overwhelmed by my feelings for them.

"Hey, that's what we're here for. Besides, I know you would do the same for any of us," Rose says reaching out to squeeze my hand.

Taking and releasing a deep breath, I decide that we need to focus back on Rose. I don't want her celebration completely disrupted. "Okay, enough of the heavy. I'm going to get something to drink. You guys good?" I ask pointing to their drinks.

"We're good for now," Jasper confirms.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Reaching the bar, I'm able to squeeze my way into an open spot. Looking at the hundreds of brightly lit bottles on the shelf, I wait for the bartender contemplating which liquid beverage I want to help ease my stress. Lost in thought, I miss the person sidling their way next to me until he's right there.

"How you doing, kid?" Emmett asks, lightly bumping my shoulder. The term of endearment is a familiar one. He's always sworn that I looked more like an intern than someone who's old enough to have graduated from law school. He's jokingly called me that since the first time we met.

A snarky comment almost falls from my lips until I see his solemn and regretful eyes. He's trying to fix things. Reminding myself that I came here to get help, I realize that putting aside our differences is more important than my pride. I owe it to my dad to focus on what matters.

"I'm here," I answer, giving him a little shove back.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I messed up. I shouldn't have invited Edward to come that night. It wasn't right for our group and it wasn't fair to you."

"You didn't expect me to show. I know you didn't do it on purpose." The words are difficult to get out. Although my rational brain understands, my emotional side is still trying to catch up.

"But I knew you were invited. I shouldn't have counted on my assumption that you wouldn't show."

"Maybe, but there's not a lot of use in hashing out the 'what if's' now."

"Are we okay?" he asks quietly.

"We will be. You're too important for me to lose."

Pulling me over, his arms encase me in a massive hug. "You mean a lot to me, you know that right?"

"I do," I whisper, squeezing him tightly. I know there is a lot to work out, but being in his arms is comforting. I need his support to get through this. He kisses my head before dropping his arms, but stays close beside me.

Wanting closure, I decide to ask him the question that's been burning in my mind. "Do you know what Edward's been doing since he left?"

Emmett stiffens besides me. For a moment, it seems that he's not going to answer, but after exhaling a loud breath, he finally speaks. "Not really." Annoyed by his vague answer, I give him a pointed look. "Seriously, Bella. I knew that he didn't want to leave, but I didn't know it had anything to do with his grandfather's company."

"You didn't keep in contact with him?"

"Not really. He would send me a message from time to time letting me know he was okay. That's how I knew when he was coming back."

"What do you think about him working for Global?"

He hesitates again, "I think that the guy I love like a brother wouldn't do anything without a good reason."

"That's an easy thing to say, Emmett, but it doesn't change that he hurt me."

"I know that and he knows that. He's not trying to avoid taking responsibility for what he did."

"You must have talked since he came back. You have to know more."

"It's not my place to say, Bella." I open my mouth to protest when he cuts me off. "You need to hear it from him, but I can tell you that he's never stopped worrying about you. It's the reason I knew the little I did when he left. He asked me to watch out for you, he wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Safe from what?"

"Anything. Everything," Emmett responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "He's always been concerned for your well-being."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I can't tell you that. I _can_ tell you that Edward is the best person I've ever met, and I know without a doubt that he loves you."

"Actions and words are two different things," I mutter looking down.

"Then maybe you need to take another look at his actions. Every choice he made was out of love, even the ones that don't seem like it." Looking over my shoulder, Emmett's eyes suddenly widen. "Shit. This one is not on me, I swear."

Swinging around, I spot Edward a few feet away looking sheepish, but not diverting his attention away from me.

"Of course he's here," I grumble. "You know, for someone who keeps saying that they'll give me space, he sure seems to show up a lot."

"He doesn't want to lose you. Give him a chance to explain. It doesn't mean that you have to forgive him or take him back, but at least hear him out. Neither of you will move forward until you do. And, Bella," Emmett pauses, pulling on my arm until I turn towards him again. "No matter what you decide, I will always support you."

An unknown weight lifts with his words. Throwing my arms around his neck, I hug him tightly. "Thank you. I really needed to hear that."

Giving me one last smile, he turns towards Edward just as he reaches us. "Hey, man," he says reaching over to shake Edward's hand. "I'll leave you two alone." Emmett moves over so that Edward can take his place at the bar. Giving my shoulder one last supportive squeeze, he walks back to the table, where everyone else is standing staring at us.

"Bella," Edward says quietly. I can tell that he's nervous.

"How did you know where I was?" I ask curiously.

Edward rubs his neck, giving me a shy smile. "I asked Paul to call me the next time you came. I guess he's one of the few who believes that I deserve a second chance."

"He does have a lot of experience with that," I comment remembering when he visited his sister's murderer last year. He believed that the anger and hatred was poisoning his life, so he made the conscious decision to face it. Although he'll never forget, he said that letting it go and finding forgiveness was the best decision he's ever made. I wonder if I'm strong enough to do the same.

"He still gave me an ear full though. I'm not afraid to admit that has me a little concerned about certain body parts if I upset you," Edward uncomfortably chuckles. "I'm glad that he still looks out for you."

"Why did you ask him to call? I thought you shouldn't be around me?" His convoluted words and actions from last night cloud my thoughts.

"I probably shouldn't. I still have things to sort out, but I can't wait anymore. Not after seeing you…not after touching you." His hand reaches out towards my face, but drops quickly when the bartender finally comes over to take my order.

"Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?" he asks standing in front of us.

"I'll take a chardonnay," I request, before motioning to Edward in case he wants to order too.

"I'll take a Guinness," Edward says throwing some cash on the bar to cover both drinks before I can even reach for my wallet.

"At least some things haven't changed," I mumble. Edward and I use to argue all the time about who would pay. It became a game to see who could outwit the other to get to the check first.

"I'm still the same person, Bella. The same man you fell in love with," he whispers stepping closer.

"How can that be true, Edward? The man I fell in love with wouldn't be running Global Security or traveling in the same circles with the likes of Riley Biers."

"I told you—"

"I know things aren't what they seem. What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means that no matter what, you still know me better than anyone. It means that even though I made the worst mistake of my life when I left without a word, it never changed how I felt about you."

His words pull at my heart. "Edward, I don't know how to do this. I should be a grown up and hear you out, but I'm just so angry. A part of me just wants to punish you."

Edward looks at me with a sad smile. "Don't sensor yourself for me, Bella. I want to know how you feel."

"You sure about that?" I don't think Edward quite understands how deep these feelings run.

"Yes. What can I do to show you that I'm serious. That I'm here to stay?" he asks stepping close enough to feel the heat of his body.

"Tell me the truth."

"I will. I want too, just not here."

I laugh bitterly. "That figures. I really don't have time for this game. There's so much going on. I'm exhausted and I..." I trail off, not sure what else to say. I want the truth, but dealing with it and my dad, I just don't know.

"Something else is going on. What is it?" Edward asks putting his hand on my shoulder. It's hard not to lean into his touch. "Let me help you."

"Edward—"

"Maybe it doesn't have to be complicated. Maybe we can start by rebuilding our friendship. I can see that you're in pain, Bella."

His hand moves around my back, pulling me into an awkward side hug. The stress of the last few days catches up to me, tears quickly filling my eyes. A part of me wants to close my eyes and pretend that it's three years ago when my life made sense. Then I could submit to his warmth, revel in his love… and my dad would still be alive. The harsh contrast of my current reality is hard to take.

"Let's go outside and get some air," Edward suggests. I nod my head, allowing him to lead me through the crowd, his arm still wrapped tightly around my shoulder.

Once outside, Edward walks over to the side of the building, away from the crowds and noise. Only when we are alone does he let go of my shoulder, allowing me some space to gather my thoughts. Chilled, I wrap my arms around my body, cursing myself for leaving my jacket inside.

"What's going on? Maybe I can help," he says softly.

"My—" I almost mention my dad, but stop suddenly remembering that Edward knows Riley. How can I trust him if I don't know their connection?

"You first, Edward. I need some answers."

"I'll tell you whatever I can."

"How do you know Riley Biers?"

Edward looks at me intently, standing a bit taller as if bracing for the fallout of speaking the truth. "For years, I'd heard his name in various conversations with my grandfather. Riley was a thorn in his side you could say. The first time I met him was about two and half years ago in Tokyo. We were vying for the same property. I guess you could say that we have a tumultuous relationship."

"So you _are _involved in similar business dealings," I state incredulously slowly backing away.

"Not exactly. Not like you think." Edward's words rush out quickly, his hands raising to stop my movements.

"Then explain it to me."

"I—" Edward starts.

A shadow catches my attention, but not soon enough. In a flash, several things happen all at once. Callous hands grab my arms and pin them behind me, roughly pulling me back against the hard body of an unknown person. I watch in horror as another man strikes the side of Edward's head with a gun. With a painful smack, his body crumbles to the pavement.

"Edward!" I cry out, terrified by his still body.

With Edward down, the man turns his attention to me. I recognize him immediately. "I told you we'd run into each other again." The stranger from the other night sneers shoving the gun behind his back and pulling out a knife.

Struggling unsuccessfully against the hold of his partner, I realize there is no escape. The man moves closer until I can feel the heat of his stale breath on my face. Slowly, he lifts the knife placing the cold steel against the pulse of my throat.

"Ms. Swan. You and I need to have a little chat."

**I know...I am a horrible, horrible person. I really don't intent to torture people, but this is where it needed to end. I was warned to watch out for pitchforks. ;) See you soon. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi!  
><strong>

**I'm excited and amazed to announce that this story was voted into the Top Five Favorite Fic Dive stories for November at ADF! Thank you so much for everyone who voted. I am completely blown away by the interest in this story. :) **

**I also appreciate all the notifications and reviews. I'm sorry that I was not able to respond to many reviews this past week, but I read and loved each and every one of them, so keep them coming. **

**RL this week was particularly crazy, so this is a shorter chapter than normal. However, I figured that a short post was better than no post. I couldn't leave you hanging any longer than necessary. **

**LostInPA, TDS88, and Beautifulnightmarex are my rocks. I wouldn't be able to keep these chapters going without them. **

**See below for an important announcement.**

**Now let's see if our characters can get out of this mess. :) **

Chapter 6: Mad World

_"When you come to the edge of all the light you have, and must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, believe that one of two things will happen to you: either there will be something solid for you to stand on, or, you will be taught how to fly."_

_Patrick Overton_

* * *

><p>"Ms. Swan. You and I need to have a little chat."<p>

"Who are you?" I ask with more confidence than I feel. Relying on techniques I've developed to face criminals on the stand, I force myself to look him in the eye. I won't be intimidated.

"You're not asking the right questions, counselor. Who I am isn't important."

"I beg to differ," I spit out, the knife still flush against my skin.

I've taken self-defense courses before and for years my dad drilled into my head what I should do in this type of situation. I need to focus. The man holding me still hasn't said anything, and since he pulled me against him first, I have no idea who he is or what he looks like. Although he has my hands in a tight hold, I twist and turn my wrists trying to free them. My feet search for a target I can kick or stomp, but he's keeping his stance frustratingly wide. Dropping my weight, I work on getting enough leverage to elbow him, but his grasp makes any possible countermove difficult.

"Hold still," the man hisses into my ear, tightening his grip even more. His voice is gruff and low but I don't recognize it.

"Screw you!" I yell, hoping to get someone's attention while continuing to struggle.

The man behind me finally releases his hold. However, before I have a chance to make a move, the stranger in the front pushes the knife harder into my neck. The sharp blade digs into my skin; if I shift in any direction, it will surely cut me. Feeling plastic tighten around my wrists, I suddenly understand why he moved back. With my hands securely bound, he regains his hold by wrapping an arm tightly around my chest, his free hand pulling roughly at my hair. The action forces my head to jerk back, the man in front watching with amusement as the knife scraps a burning path along my soft flesh.

"Spirited. I like that." The stranger's lips curl into a slimy grin, his tongue peeking out to lick them. The action twists my stomach.

"So, what is the question then?" I ask trying to buy some time, hoping that someone on the street heard the commotion and is getting help. In my peripheral vision, I still see Edward's prone body on the concrete. _Please be alive._

"Oh, what would be the fun in telling you that? No, I think I should make you guess," he says with a sardonic tone. Flashing a cocky smirk, he pulls the knife back, finally giving me some breathing room.

"Fuck you!" I bite out. "I'm not going to play your sick game."

"Are you sure? I think I could—"

Before he can finish, a body flies from the right, knocking him to the ground, the knife falling to the concrete. The man behind me tightens his grip as Edward and the other guy roll on the ground. Having the element of surprise, Edward is able to get on top of him quickly and land several successful punches. The man swings wildly trying to defend himself, but Edward's jabs are quick and powerful.

Without warning and unable to brace my fall, my body slams into the concrete when the man holding me throws me to the side. Stunned, I watch helplessly as he attacks Edward from behind. Adrenalin pulses through my veins as I scramble to get up. The act is more difficult than I expect with my hands tied behind my back. Once on my feet, I scream for help, watching the chaos in front of me trying desperately to figure out how I can help. Everything moves quickly, my eyes having trouble tracking the details. If I make the wrong move, my interference could make things worse. Seeing the knife on the ground, I quickly kick it away. The least I can do is make sure one of the two men can't use it against Edward.

Edward continues to focus on the man under him almost oblivious to the other man's attacks. With lightning speed, Edward lands another bone-cracking blow, before whipping his body around to land a powerful strike against the person attacking him from behind. His moves are crisp and precise as he grabs him around the waist and knocks him to the ground, the man's head bouncing off the concrete in the process.

I continue to scream for help, trying frantically to get someone's attention, cursing myself once again for leaving my coat inside where my phone is tucked safely within the pocket. I know I should run and grab someone, but I'm terrified to leave Edward alone. Finally, a passerby acknowledges my pleas and yells for someone to call the police.

With Edward now fighting the man who was holding me, the first man is able to recover enough to clamber to his feet, blood pouring from his nose. He turns and sneers, slowly stalking towards me. "You just made a big mistake, little girl."

I widen my stance trying to remember everything I learned about self-defense. I won't go down without a fight. My only shot is to disable him by either taking out his knee or targeting his groin with my feet. Keeping him at a distance is key; he will have the advantage if he gets too close. The other prime targets on his body will be difficult to damage with my hands tied.

The commotion continues to grow, more people stopping to watch the fight though no one steps forward help, the 'bystander effect' apparently in full force. Another yell to call the police, however, is enough to stop his advance. Glancing towards the crowd, he probably realizes that there isn't much time before they arrive.

"Don't worry, Bella. We'll see each other again soon." His voice is like a dagger, his malevolent eyes drinking me in one last time before abruptly bolting towards the street.

"Stop him!" I scream as he forcefully pushes past the crowd.

One man bravely tries to grab his shirt, but he quickly swings and knocks the bystander to the ground. I try to see what direction he is heading in, but it's difficult to determine as the swarm of people swallows him.

"God damn it!" I roar, my body crackling with unused energy. Focusing back on Edward, I'm surprised to see that he and the other man are now standing. Both bloodied, they bob and weave. Each tries unsuccessfully to land blows to the other, though neither are backing off.

"Fuck!" The voice of a savior finally rings through the unresponsive crowd. _Thank God!_

Paul breaks through the spectators and runs towards us, Emmett and Rose following closely behind him. With years of experience breaking up fights, Paul deftly manages to grab the man attacking Edward and pull him away. Rose steps in between, holding her hand against the man's chest to keep him from surging forward again.

"You better fucking stop," Paul growls holding him by his neck. Edward stands close by, his chest heaving as he turns to spit out a mouth full of blood.

"Bella, you okay?" Emmett asks, wrapping his arm around my shaking body as he calls for back up.

"I think so," I whisper still trying to process everything. "Th-there were two…one ran off down the street. I think…I think he went left. It was hard to see," I blurt out. I have a sinking feeling that if we don't find him quickly, chances are slim we will find him at all.

"This isn't over! They know how to get to you, no matter where you are." The man Paul has in a chokehold shouts staring directly at me.

At his veiled threat, Edward rushes forward. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Fuck you!" The man spits in his face.

With astonishing speed and strength, Edward pulls him out of Paul's grasp and throws him against the wall, using his arm to cut off his windpipe. "Don't threaten her. You threaten her and you deal with me. Do you understand?" His deadly voice echoes off the building, the man's face turning red as he sputters for breath.

Emmett rushes over, trying to pull him off. "Edward, that's enough! He's no good to us dead! We can't protect Bella if we don't know who sent him." Edward shakes his head as if coming out of a trance and finally steps back. Emmett quickly grabs the man and holds him while Rose cuffs his hands behind his back.

"You have the right to remain silent, you prick," Rose growls.

I barely register the rest of the words as she finishes reading him his rights, the adrenalin in my body slowly giving way to shock. I sense the commotion around me and recognize the sounds of approaching sirens, but it's all static compared to the vision of Edward standing before me covered in blood. A feral look punctuates his face, his wild eyes scanning me as he catches his breath. I am frozen.

"Bella," Edward whispers, his voice gruff. He approaches me slowly. "Are you okay?" His shaky hand cups my face before sliding down to my neck, his fingertips gently caressing the scrapes the knife left behind. "Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head no, not trusting my voice. My mind is suddenly blank. I don't know what to say and I can't stop staring at the trickle of blood running down the side of his face. He seems undisturbed. _Doesn't he want to wipe it off?_

With a shuddering breath, Edward pulls me into a tight embrace, almost wrapping himself around me as one of his hands reaches up to stroke my hair. The sudden warmth helps to ease my trembling, the tension flowing out of my body as it unconsciously surrenders to his comfort.

"Shit, your hands. Let's get you out of these," he states finally noticing my bound hands. Pulling out a fancy looking knife from a holster hidden under his jacket, he turns me around. With a quick swish, my hands are finally free.

"Thank you," I sigh, facing him again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Edward watches closely as I rub each one of my wrists to ease the slight burn that the zip tie cuffs left.

"I'm okay. What about you?" I reach up and carefully brush his hair back to take a closer look at his head wound.

Edward winces, gently pulling my hand away. "I'm fine. It looks worse than it is," he lies.

Before I can argue, Paul runs over. "Are you guys okay?"

"We're alive," I murmur watching as more people crowd the area. Lost in my own world with Edward, I had almost forgotten that we're not alone.

The commotion increases as several officers arrive to contain the scene. Emmett is talking to several of them, gesturing towards the street. Two of the officers rush off in the direction he pointed, probably looking for the one who got away. Rose is still standing with the other man, talking to a couple of other officers who are taking notes.

"Jesus Christ, Edward. You look like hell."

"You should see the other guy," Edward smirks, but his joke falls flat.

I can tell Paul doesn't buy Edward's claim of being fine either, but instead of pushing it, he turns his attention to me. "Do you know that fucker?" he asks motioning to the guy in custody. Emmett walks back over to us. He looks worriedly at Edward, but remains silent.

"No, but his partner approached me several nights ago."

"What?" Edward hisses.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Emmett demands, his words taking on a detective's tone.

"It happened the night of Washed Out's concert. A few feet from the door, he ran into me and knocked me down. At the time it seemed like an accident." Given tonight, the act was obviously intentional.

"Any idea what he wanted?" Emmett questions.

"No. He wanted me to get a drink with him, but he gave me the creeps so I gave him the brush off. He didn't mention anything else that would explain why he's targeting me."

"Do we know who the 'they' could be?" Paul asks referring to the threat thrown in my direction earlier.

Edward's fiery eyes watch me carefully, his nostrils flaring as he waits for my response. I've never seen him this angry. "I don't know. It could be about the case I'm working on or one that I've prosecuted in the past." I need to talk to Sam. I know in my gut that this has to do with Riley, but I need evidence to prove it.

"Looks like we need to get information from his partner then," Edward says lowly.

"If he'll talk. I bet he lawyers up before you even get him into the car," I assert. If he is one of Riley's boys, there is no way he'd be stupid enough to say anything and risk his wrath.

"Oh, I'll get him to talk. Don't worry about that," Edward whispers turning his steely gaze back to the man.

"What are you talking about? You can't question him," I point out incredulously. Edward is delusional if he thinks the cops will let him talk to a person in their custody.

Edward quickly swings his head back to me as if realizing that he vocalized the thought aloud. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops and places his hands on his knees when his body unexpectedly sways.

"Edward!" I reach out to steady his body before he falls. "Here, sit down," I whisper dragging him onto the ground with me.

"We need a medic over here," Paul yells above us.

"I'm fine, Bella. Just give me a minute. We need to figure this out," Edward mumbles, his eyes swimming.

No matter how much he protests, I know he is seriously injured. I'm especially concerned that blood continues to flow from the wound on his head and it looks like it hurts him to take a full breath. Not to mention that his face is starting to swell, his lip is bleeding, and his fists are raw.

"We will, but right now you need to have someone take a look at you."

Edward leans closer, slowly lowering his body until his head is resting in my lap. His chest takes shallow rattling breaths as his hand holds onto my knee like a lifeline. "No, I need to make sure you're safe," he mumbles.

"I'm safe. _You_, however, need a doctor. You're hurt."

Two paramedics run over and kneel beside us, asking me to move so that they can look at him, much to Edward's dismay. They must have arrived with the other officers. Waving over a gurney, they maneuver Edward onto it despite his continued protests that he is fine.

"We're going to take you in," one of them declares after assessing his wounds.

"I don't need a hospital. Just patch me up and let me go." Edward struggles to get up.

"You can refuse treatment once you get there, sir, but we have to take you in," the second paramedic maintains, pushing Edward back onto the gurney.

"Edward, stop being a stubborn ass and go to the hospital," Emmett chastises. "I'll stay with Bella." Edward sets his frustrated sights on Emmett, but before he can voice another argument, Emmett continues. "Nothing is going to happen with all of us around. Besides, what good are you to anyone if you end up passing out?"

They seemingly enter a silent conversation for several moments before Edward finally relents. "Fine. Let's get this over with," he grumbles to the paramedics.

"Atta boy!" Emmett grins triumphantly.

"Bella, stay with Emmett. I'll come…don't…just… please stay safe," he stammers disjointedly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me." As they wheel him to the ambulance, he pins me with an unidentifiable look.

This whole situation is crazy. Just when we are taking a step towards resolving things, fate unexpectedly spins us in a different direction. My mind tries to sort through all the jagged pieces of this bizarre puzzle. Nothing about tonight makes sense, but apparently, my life now depends upon figuring it out.

"Bella, you need to give an official statement before we can leave," Emmett says breaking through my cryptic thoughts.

"Right."

For now, they are considering this a local matter. However, once we connect it to Riley, it will become part of his federal investigation giving Sam the ability to take over this case too. Newton is going to kill me for not talking to him about all of this sooner. He hates being blindsided.

"Bella!" Turning, I see Alice and Jasper running towards us. Alice quickly pulls me into a tight embrace as soon as I'm within reach. "Thank God you're okay."

"What the hell happened?" Jasper asks Emmett, placing a supportive hand on my back.

"We're still trying to figure that out."

"It has to be Riley," Jasper concludes.

"Agreed, but we need to connect him to her attackers before we can confront him."

"_Attackers? _As in more than one?" Alice asks squeezing me tighter.

"I'm fine, really." I pat her back reassuringly before pulling back.

"Yes, two to be precise. One of the fuckers got away," Emmett answers before turning his attention to me. "Which means you shouldn't be alone until we find him."

"I understand." I give them a small smile trying to ease their anxiety.

"Let's get your statement taken and get you home," Emmett announces, pointing towards two of the officers.

"I'm going to take Alice back to our house and then head over to the precinct. I've got some favors that I can cash in with the D.A. to make sure they delay his bail hearing as long as possible," Jasper adds.

"That sounds good. The more time we have to find something, the better. We'll need evidence to bargain with if we have any hope of getting information from him."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Alice asks me.

"No, I want you home and away from this mess." I doubt anything else will happen tonight, but I don't want to take any chances of having her caught in the crossfire.

"Okay, but call me later," she whispers pulling me into another hug. "I love you."

"I love you too. Don't worry, Em and Rose have this covered."

"They better," she warns pointing her finger at Emmett before pulling him into a hug and warning him to stay safe too.

Emmett, Rose, and I stay for another forty-five minutes while I make my statement and answer questions. San Francisco P.D. issued an APB for the second assailant as well as sending several Protective Services Details to watch my house and patrol the neighborhood. In a feeble attempt to ease my mind, the lead detective all but promised that they would find the suspect by morning. However, I know the chances of that are slim; this is just the beginning.

Dragging myself into my house, I head straight to my couch and lay down while Rose and Emmett lock up. Placing my arm across my face, I close my eyes recounting everything. I'm a myriad of emotions. I'm exhausted, but surprisingly tonight has only fueled the fire to get justice. I refuse to let the threats and warnings deter me from bringing Riley down and clearing my dad's name.

"How you holding up?" Rose asks quietly.

"I'm okay. Pissed, but okay."

"Well, I'll be damned. There's the girl I know." I can hear the smirk in her voice.

"Has Emmett heard from Edward?"

"Yes, last he heard they were doing a couple of other tests. Luckily, it sounds like besides some cuts, bruises and a mild concussion, he's okay. I guess he has some bruised ribs, which are a bitch, but at least they're not broken."

"That's good," I whisper, relieved, the worry about his condition weighing heavily on me. The look on his battered face difficult to forget.

"_Fuck!"_ Emmett screams into his phone while walking into the living room. Sitting up, Rose and I glance at each other wondering what else could have gone wrong. "What did the paperwork say?...I don't care who they are, they still need to show cause…. Follow up and let me know. …Do we know where they took him at least? …Of course not…Yeah, call me when you have something."

"What happened?" Rose asks cautiously.

"Your attacker was just transferred into federal custody."

"To who?" I ask.

"There's some confusion on the specifics, but the cloak and dagger nature of the paperwork has the stench of the CIA."

"Shit! That changes things," Rose grumbles.

It always amazes me that even though we are all part of the criminal justice system, law enforcement agencies never play nice when their cases cross. The CIA is particularly notorious for keeping vital information to themselves. If they took him, this case just became a lot more complicated with the international implications indicated by their interest and quick response.

"Well, do we at least know who _he_ is?" I ask.

"Yes, Diego Munoz. He has a pretty long rap sheet, mainly for assault."

"Is he associated with Riley?" I lean forward waiting for his response, wringing my hands anxiously. We need this connection.

"No," Emmett says quietly. "But that doesn't mean anything. He's a man for hire, so even if he not's a part of his crew, it doesn't mean that Riley didn't pay him."

"Yeah, but that doesn't help get us what we need now," I spit out frustratingly.

"Hey, it's not over yet. Maybe Sam will recognize Diego from his investigation. He knows how Riley operates and who he employs better than anyone," Rose counters.

"Let's hope so," I grumble.

Emmett's phone blares again, "God damn it," he hisses. "What now?" he barks as soon as he answers. "Where?...How long?" Emmett moves over to my front window to look out. "Stand down. I know him."

"What's going on?"

"Edward is hovering outside. Your protection detail was about to take him out."

"What is he doing?"

"I have no idea. He's just sitting outside, but I doubt he's here to see me."

Standing up, I move to the front door and open it. There on my stoop, sitting with his head between his hands, is Edward.

"What are you doing?" I ask. His head snaps up, followed by a grimace. There is white gauze wrapped around his head. "I know I'm not a doctor, but I'm thinking that quick movements are frowned upon for a healing head wound."

He softly chuckles, "You might be right."

Walking over, I sit next to him. "So, you want to tell me what you're doing out here, besides trying to get yourself arrested for suspicious behavior."

"I was deciding what to do," he mutters. "I needed to see you, but I also realize that you might not want me here."

"Thanks. I appreciate you considering that." His words just highlight everything he's been trying to prove since his return.

"Don't give me too much credit, Bella. I was going to come in one way or another. I just was trying to figure out the best way to do it so you didn't hate me even more than you already do," he whispers defeated.

His posture is a shocking contrast from the fighter who risked his life to keep me safe earlier. I can't discount what he did or ignore the overwhelming fear I felt when he was hurt. I know that this doesn't fix anything. We have so much to work out before I can even comprehend what this means for us, but tonight I don't have the strength to keep up the pretense that I don't care.

Standing up, I walk back and open the door. "Would you like to come in?"

Shocked, Edward gets up slowly, his sore body protesting the movement. "More than anything, Bella. More than anything."

**Hi again. Due to various holiday festivities and obligations, this will be my last post before the New Year. I hope that everyone that celebrates has a wonderful holiday and I will see you in a few weeks! When we return, we will see what the crew plans to do from here and for anyone wondering, we are getting closer to the prologue. ;) **


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy New Year!**

**Thank you for the continued support of this story! I love hearing from all of you. :)**

**Beautifulnightmarex, thanks you for always being a sounding board, even when you are crazy busy. TDS88 your beta skills are tops, and LostInPA thank you for letting me bounce ideas off you, I appreciate your help and support more than you know. :) **

**I own nothing.**

Chapter 7: Burn

_"My thoughts cannot move an inch without bumping into some piece of you."_

_A quote I found written on a newspaper on a train the other day. (Source: quiettea)_

* * *

><p><em>Turning the key, I open the door to the sensation of butterflies fluttering and twirling inside my body. I'm almost afraid that my realtor will call and tell me that there was another glitch, killing my dream of owning this house. <em>

_"Excited?" Edward asks from behind, his breath skimming my neck as he kisses it. _

_"How can you tell?" I joke bouncing up and down on my toes. _

_Walking inside, I feel a sense of belonging that is hard to explain. The experience intensifies seeing Edward standing in the entryway with a wide smile, his eyes sparkling. The vision sparks my imagination to create an impromptu slideshow of us. Futuristic pictures invade my thoughts, but the image of Edward walking through the door with green-eyed, brown-haired children running into his arms to greet him overwhelms me. _

_"Want to tell me what brought that beautiful smile to your face?" _

_"Just thinking about the future." _

_Edward stalks forward, his eyes dark and mischievous. "Really? Anything you want to share?"_

_"Maybe." I smile flirtatiously. _

_Grabbing my waist, he pulls me into a tight embrace. Pushing us backwards, I find myself caged between the wall and his body, his lips roaming my neck and face before we meet in an enflamed kiss. His hands glide sensually down my body while mine travel under his shirt, tracing the defined muscles. His body shivers and I smile against his mouth knowing that I caused it. _

_"I thought you wanted me to share?" I tease breathlessly._

_"Later," he mumbles. "I'm enjoying the present too much."_

_My heart swells at the silly but romantic comment. I adore this man. Picking me up, I wrap my legs around him as he pushes us harder against the wall, the friction driving me crazy. Reaching up, I drag my fingers through his hair. Edward growls in response, his tongue stroking mine. _

_Setting me back on the floor, he reaches down and pulls my shirt over my head. In return, I rip his off. Back against the wall and skin against skin, my hands work to free his belt buckle. _

_"I love you," he mumbles, his hands working on my jeans, both of us frantically searching for release. _

_"I love you too." _

_Finally free of the confines of our clothes, Edward's eyes search mine while his hand caresses my face. "I hope that future of yours includes me, Bella Swan, because I don't intend to let you go easily."_

_"It does," I breathe out. I can't imagine a future without him in it. _

_Leaning forward, his lips devour mine with an adoring intensity. Lifting me up once again, my fiery body feels whole as he takes me in one quick thrust. The electricity pulses through my veins to the rhythm of our frantic pace. I never really understood the concept of making love until Edward. The powerful combination of love, desire, and passion is indescribable as we fall over the edge. _

_Sweaty, sated, and warm, our bodies slide down the wall and tangle together until we're lying on the floor. Snuggling into his chest, I savor the sound of his rapid heartbeat. Gently circling my finger in a lazy path across his skin, a low growl rumbles through his chest. _

_"Careful, or else we might never get up." _

_"Who says I want to get up?" I ask placing my hand under my chin so that I can look him._

_"In that case," Edward laughs rolling us over until his body hovers above mine._

_"So much for moving in," I giggle enjoying our spontaneous christening of my new house. _

* * *

><p>Our laughter follows me back into the present. The taunting memory is hard to swallow as Edward and I walk into my house much like we did on that day long ago, although tonight it's not excitement, but trepidation coursing through my body.<p>

Emmett stands to greets us as soon as we enter the living room. If his wide grin is any indication, he approves of my decision to invite him in. "You look like shit," he says, lightly tapping Edward on the shoulder.

"I can always count on you to keep it honest," Edward smirks.

Edward looks around before focusing back on me. "The place looks great," he mutters uncomfortably.

"Thanks. I've done some work. Painted a bit."

"I like it." Edward's hands flex nervously. I wonder if he feels the loss of our easy conversations as much as I do. "Are you going somewhere?" he questions, pointing towards the mess of boxes on my floor and table in the dining room.

"Um, no, that's my dad's stuff. I've been sorting through it." Though it's only been a few hours since I left the mess behind, it feels like a lifetime ago.

"Oh," he says softly, his eyes assessing me.

"Edward," Rose states grimly by way of a greeting. She eyes me curiously, probably wondering what in the hell I'm doing. I wish I knew myself.

"Rose," Edward acknowledges in return.

For several moments, the four of us stand there stiffly. Each of us glancing uneasily around the room, the silence sharp and fractured. Before everything implodes, I decide to create a distraction for all of our sakes.

"Would you guys like some coffee? I have a feeling it will be a long night."

"Uh, yeah. That sounds good," Emmett answers, eyeballing Edward and Rose who appear to be in an unsettling standoff.

"O-kay, coffee coming right up," I drag out before scurrying to kitchen.

Mindlessly undertaking the task, I try to determine my next steps. There is so much that Edward and I need to talk about, yet having a meaningful conversation will be impossible with two other sets of ears in the room. Especially ones that are on opposite ends of the spectrum of what I should do.

Unfortunately, my brain is still contemplating how to best approach the situation when the hissing of the machine and the smell of brewed coffee indicate the end of my time alone. "Let the fun begin," I grouse, preparing to re-enter the pressure cooker that is currently my living room.

Walking out of the kitchen, I overhear the sound of an argument building. Slowing down, I creep against the wall until I get to the corner where they can't see me. Between Rose's protectiveness, Emmett's concern, and Edward's desire to make things better, I know they will stop talking if I walk into the room. Given the unique opportunity, I feel a sudden urge to hear what they'd say without me present.

"Don't lie, Edward. It doesn't become you." Rose snorts. "You were there for Bella _tonight_, and I appreciate it, but let's not pretend that we're friends. What happened earlier doesn't change anything."

"Guys, keep it down. This isn't helping," Emmett reprimands.

"Don't you think I know that, Rose! I'm not trying to get out of _anything_. But what goes on between Bella and I is none of your business, so I'd appreciate if you stay out of it. I have enough to fix without your attitude towards me making it worse."

"It's my business because she my friend! _I_ was the one who helped her pick up the pieces after you left, so fuck you! You're such a selfish asshole! Don't you see how fragile she is? Her father's death almost destroyed her. She doesn't need you making things worse," Rose says menacingly.

My body cringes at the blunt remark. I never wanted anyone to see me as "fragile" and yet somehow that is exactly what I've become in the last few months. The comment only stokes the fire building inside, pushing me to find myself again.

"I'm not going anywhere," Edward barks.

"Rose, whether you want to accept it or not, they need to talk. Having things left unresolved doesn't help her either. You don't need to like it, but you should respect your friend enough to let _her_ decide," Emmett tries to rationalize.

The room is suddenly silent and for a moment, I wonder if I should walk in, but then Rose finally responds. "Fine, but I'm warning you, make things worse and nothing will stop me from giving you what you deserve," she all but snarls. "I'm going to check in with the patrols." A few seconds later, the door slams shut.

"What do you think, Em? I think we've made progress. At least she didn't punch me this time," Edward comments sarcastically, leaving me to wonder when that occurred.

"Sorry, man. She'll cool off eventually."

"I highly doubt that. I get that she doesn't trust me, but I have enough to prove already without her interference."

"When are you going to talk Bella?"

Edward pauses, "As soon as I can."

"She's justifiably confused and pissed. It might take a miracle for her to accept any explanation you give."

"Great, thanks for the pep talk."

"I'm just being honest. She's going to need time to absorb it all, so be prepared to give her some space." Emmett's comment gives me pause. He swears he doesn't know all the details of what happened, but it sounds like he knows enough to assume my reaction.

"Space I can do, but what if she never wants to see me again? What in the hell do I do with that?"

"You move on."

"Em, she's it for me. That's never going to change," Edward asserts.

Before they say anything else, the door opens again. "Everything is secure. No sign of anything suspicious." Rose's voice is tight and restrained, a clear sign that she's trying to keep her anger in check.

"Any idea why these guys are after Bella?" Edward asks.

"Not officially. She's working on a high profile case though, so I wouldn't be surprised if that's the connection," Emmett answers.

"What case?" Edward inquires.

"That's confidential. You're not law enforcement, remember," Rose says jumping in.

Deciding there's probably nothing else for me to gain by continuing to hide; I ease backwards so that I can walk in as if nothing happened. Silently gathering information seems like the best strategy until I get a better picture of exactly what is going on.

"Coffee's ready," I announce nonchalantly.

"Great!" Emmett says a little too enthusiastically.

Heading back into the kitchen, I pull out the cups, cream, and sugar, while the others huddle around the island in the center of the room. "What do we do now?" I ask pouring the coffee.

"We wait and hope that they catch this guy tonight," Emmett asserts.

"How realistic is that?"

"It's hard to say," Rose answers honestly.

"And if he's not found, what does that mean for me? How long do I need the protection detail?"

"Until there's no danger," Edward responds swiftly.

"He's right," Rose agrees glancing at Edward. "We can't take any chances until we have more information."

"Great," I grumble.

"Hey, it won't be that bad. They'll stay out of your way," Emmett adds.

"Right," I say begrudgingly feeling fidgety. "Well, I can't stand around here doing nothing. What do we know about Diego?"

"Who's Diego?" Edward questions.

"The second suspect. He was taken into federal custody right after SFPD booked him," I reply.

"Hmmm," Edward mumbles, stirring cream into his coffee.

"Jasper's looking into who's interested in him and why. Taking him doesn't make any sense unless he was already on someone's radar," Rose says answering my initial question.

"Like the CIA," I mutter.

"Maybe switching custody is a good thing. If they have something on him, wouldn't that provide the leverage needed to make him talk? Besides, now he can't be released on bail, which keeps Bella safer," Edward points out.

"Except we won't get any of that information, so how does that help us?" Rose argues.

"I guess you're right," Edward concedes indifferently.

"Of course I'm right. Why don't you just stay out of things you clearly don't understand."

Edward's demeanor brusquely shifts, "You have _no_ idea what I do or do not understand," he cautions, the tone of his voice taking on a deadly air.

"Enlighten me then," she counters undeterred.

"Hey," Emmett interjects stopping the quarrel. "Edward's part of that tight-lipped community and has access to information that we don't, especially since none of us are officially assigned to this case. Maybe we shouldn't be so hasty to throw his knowledge and contacts to the curb."

"What are you talking about," Edward asks looking back and forth between Emmett and I. "You think this is connected to someone I know?"

"Possibly to someone who runs in the same business circles you do," I answer vaguely.

"Then Emmett's right," Edward states hesitantly. "Even with official documentation, no one from my world is going to talk easily. Especially since anyone you approach will have a team of lawyers ready to shut down an interview before it even starts. Who do you suspect?"

The more I think about Emmett's suggestion, the more I think he's right about using Edward's connections to our advantage. At this point, we probably have a better shot with that angle than waiting to hear back from the CIA. Not to mention that being able to see exactly how Edward operates will hopefully give me a window into what he's been up to these last three years.

"Riley Biers," I reveal before I change my mind. "Can you get information on him?"

Edward stops mid-sip, his eyes widening before his face turns into a frown. "Come again."

"Bella," Rose warns.

"It's my decision," I cut her off before she can pose another argument. "We're getting ready to prosecute him. Tonight might be connected to that."

"Wait, the DOJ is going to prosecute Biers?" Edward slams his cup down, the coffee splashing on the counter. "You're kidding me."

His vehement reaction throws me. "No. The FBI has been investigating him for years."

"How the fuck did I not know about this?" he drones shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?" Rose probes, posing the question on the tip of my tongue.

"Nothing, never mind," Edward says quietly before fixing his gaze on me, his face changing from dazed to accusatory. "Bella, I asked you the other night what your connection was to Riley. Why didn't you tell me then?"

"Are you seriously asking me that? It was our second conversation in three years. Why in the hell would I share all of my business, especially when I had no clue what _your _connection was to him."

Edward's eyes burn into mine, his knuckles white as they grasp the counter. His perplexing reaction fuels my curiosity more than my anger. Edward doesn't usually overreact to things, which tells me this is coming from somewhere significant.

"Edward, you need to calm down. She's right," Emmett interjects evenly.

Looking down, Edward takes a deep breath before raising his eyes again. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I'm just frustrated and spewing nonsense."

"Spewing nonsense isn't like you. You sure there isn't something you want to share?" I ask pushing for more information.

"Yes. Just blame it on the head wound," he maintains pointing to the gauze on his head. "Look, I told you that Riley and I don't have the best relationship. If he's connected to what happened then I want to nail his ass. What do you need?"

"We need to find a connection between Diego and Riley."

"What about the other guy. He seemed to be the man in charge," Edward points out. "Do we know his name yet?"

"No," I answer thinking back on the altercation. "You're right though, he probably is the leader. He did most of the talking, and was also the one who approached me before."

"We didn't get a chance to ask Diego anything before he transferred," Emmett adds.

"Okay then, what if we broaden the scope? Can you get information on whether Riley was looking into 'men for hire'?" I question. "If he does know we are getting ready to prosecute, he's not going to be stupid enough to use his own people to attack me."

"I need to dig a bit, but I can probably find out," he affirms.

"You can?" Rose asks suspiciously.

"Yes," Edward answers dismissively. "Any other activities you want me to check into?"

"Anything suspicious, which I realize is probably a needle in a pretty shady haystack, but something is better than nothing," Emmett says.

"Okay, let me make some calls and see what kind of dirt I can find on Mr. Biers." Edward pulls out his phone, but instead of staying in the kitchen, he walks into the laundry room down the hall and shuts the door.

"Is anyone else disturbed by that?" Rose asks pointing down the hallway.

"We need this advantage. Just consider him an informant. We don't 'officially' acknowledge how they get their information either, but we still use it to solve cases," I argue. I'm tired of being one-step behind. Officially or unofficially, we need to turn things up a notch, no matter how bothered I am by the ease of which Edward thinks he can get information.

"Yeah, sure," Rose relents.

"Okay people!" Emmett pronounces smacking his hands together in a booming clap. "Let's get down to business."

Splitting up, each of us spends the next several hours looking for evidence to either prove a connection between Biers and Diego or find any known associates of Diego that might lead to the identity of his partner. Edward focuses primarily on his various contacts while Rose and Emmett pull some strings at their respective agencies to conduct a massive information search on various databases.

Rubbing my blurry eyes, I struggle to read the words on the page in front of me. I've been going through Riley's files again searching for any mention of Diego Munoz. After fighting off another face-splitting yawn, I decide that I've had enough. Dragging myself to the living room, I see that Emmett, and Rose are not much better off.

"Okay, troops, I'm calling it a night. Time for you to go home and get some sleep."

Emmett stands to stretch. "I agree it's time to call it a night, but you're crazy if you think Rose and I are leaving with that madman still on the loose."

"What he said. So, where do you want us to crash?" Rose asks, placing her file on down on the arm of her chair.

"You guys, that's really not necessary."

"It is," Edward's voice rings out as he returns from making yet another phone call. "And since we should reconvene in the morning anyway, it makes sense for everyone to just stay here."

"Everyone as in you?" I ask incredulously, stunned by his bold declaration.

"I'd feel a lot better if I stayed," he whispers.

Staring at his injured head and bruised face, my heart wins the battle over my mind on whether or not this is a good idea. Given his injuries and the late hour, it would probably be safer for him to stay. "Fine. Rose and Emmett can take the spare room upstairs. Edward, you can take the couch."

"Oh goodie a slumber party! Who's going to do my nails?" Emmett jokes waving his massive hands in the air.

"Careful, Em, I always went more for pranks at my parties. Keep that up, and your hand will be getting the warm water treatment," I warn.

"Lucky for me MythBusters busted that, so do what you will." He winks before throwing a small pillow at my head.

I think the late hour has officially gone to his head. "Will you guys try to tame him while I set up the bed?" I laugh throwing the pillow right back before running up the stairs to avoid retaliation.

After getting it ready, I go back down with some blankets and pillows for Edward. Finding him alone in the living room, I walk over slowly, realizing that this is the first time we've been unaccompanied since he came in. "Here you go," I say handing them over, only to shiver when our hands brush during the pass off.

"Thank you," he whispers setting them on the couch. Moving closer, his eyes search mine. "Bella, we really—" The sound of Edward's phone stops him from finishing the sentence. "I better take this," he mutters rushing back towards the laundry room, leaving me a quivering mess of confusing emotions once again.

Shaking it off, I head into the kitchen where Rose and Emmett are putting the coffee cups in the dishwasher. "Your room is ready. Is there anything else you need?"

"You don't by chance have an extra toothbrush I can use do you?" Rose asks.

"Umm, yeah. I think I have a couple in the bathroom downstairs. Let me go check."

Walking towards the bathroom, I hear Edward's angry voice pulsate down the hall. For the second time tonight, I find myself slowing down to play spy and listen in on a conversation not meant for me. I should feel guilty, but my need to know currently outweighs what is decent and honorable.

"I don't give a fuck about protocol! …Why wasn't I told about this?... Remind him that I agreed to do this and he would have_ nothing_ without me. He doesn't get to sensor information, you got it?... Well, tonight changes everything. I don't care what strings you need to pull, I want…"

"Bella," Emmett's voice suddenly bellows, scaring the shit out of me. Rushing back down the hall, I try to act nonchalant, hoping that my face does not give away my embarrassment of almost getting caught.

"What's up?" I ask, annoyed that my voice sounds overly perky even to my own ears. _So much for playing it cool. _

"Rose and I are going to do one final check in with the patrols before you set the alarm."

"Thanks. I'm sorry about all the trouble."

"It's no trouble, Bella. Besides your guest bed is comfortable, and you make a kick ass breakfast, so it really works to my benefit." He smiles before giving my shoulder a squeeze.

Waiting until he's out of sight, I move quickly hoping to hear more of Edward's conversation. However, as soon as I swing around, I find Edward already standing right behind me.

"Anything going on?" he asks evenly. If he knows that I was listening in, he's either playing it off or biding his time to confront me.

"Umm, no," I respond trying to calm my pounding heart. "They're just going to do one final check-in."

"Oh, okay."

"Any news?" I ask, motioning to the phone in his hand. "You've been in and out of that room a lot tonight."

"Nothing solid, but I have several good leads. I should have more information by tomorrow."

"Great," I babble trying to gage his reaction, hoping it will give me an indication of whether or not he's onto me. "So, you found people willing to give you information?"

"I had to pull in some favors, but yeah, I found people willing to help." His composed demeanor makes me almost certain that he's none the wiser to my devious acts.

"Anything you can share?" I push, hoping he will indirectly shed some light on the conversation I overheard.

"No, I just got the ball rolling." We stand there quietly for a moment before he changes the subject. "Thank you for letting me stay," he says earnestly.

"You might not say that after sleeping on the couch. I don't know how comfortable it will be."

"I've slept in worse places. It will be fine." He blinds me with a charming smile.

The energy between us makes my skin tingle, like static in the air before a storm. "I think I'm going to turn in. Do you have everything you need?"

"I'm good." Reaching out he grabs my hand, gently rubbing my knuckles. "Sleep well, Bella."

"Good night," I whisper, deciding to leave before I get lost in the soothing sensation of his caress.

Hastily pulling my hand out of his, I rush to the bathroom to grab the toothbrushes and then run upstairs. After placing them on the spare bed, I move into my bedroom shutting the door tightly behind me. Going through my nightly routine, I try not to focus on the fact that Edward is sleeping in my house tonight.

Turning on my reading light, I pull out a familiar and comforting book, hoping that the soothing words will help me fall asleep. Although I'm physically exhausted, my mind is too restless to sleep, a horrible combination for an insomniac.

"Damn it! I can't keep letting him affect me," I reprimand myself, settling into the covers and opening my book. "Damn him."

* * *

><p>Chased awake by unseen demons, I sit up breathless and overheated. The nightmare fades before I can grasp it, but even without the details, I'm left feeling terrified. Sweeping my eyes across the room to check for monsters, I realize that the light is still on and my book is haphazardly laying on the bed. I must have fallen asleep while reading it.<p>

Having no desire to return to dreamland, I tiptoe downstairs to get a drink. Quietly pulling a glass out of the cabinet, I pour some juice, gulping it down quickly to ease my scratchy throat. The combination of the cold liquid and sweat cooling on my skin elicits a penetrating shudder that runs down the length of my body. Wrapping my arms around my body, I stare out of the window hoping to clear my mind so that I can get some rest before the sun rises.

"Can't sleep?"

"Jesus!" Shaken by the unexpected noise, the glass falls from my hand and shatters on the floor.

"Shit! Don't move, you'll cut your feet," Edward says rushing forward. Swiftly, I'm lifted off the floor surrounded by the familiar heat of Edward's body and the smell of spice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Setting me down several feet away, I watch transfixed while he moves around the kitchen as if he belongs there. Easily finding the broom, dustpan, and paper towels, he quickly takes care of the mess, making sure to get each piece of glass. Remaining focused on the task, he avoids eye contact and conversation.

"Yeah," I blurt out.

Edward's eyes shoot up, confusion written on his face. "What?"

"Umm, you asked if I couldn't sleep. I didn't answer…because you know…the glass broke. So, yeah…I couldn't sleep," I slur quietly realizing how idiotic that sounded.

Edward stares for a moment, a small grin gracing his face before he lowers his head mumbling, "aren't….sup….go….ing."

The words are so quiet and quick that I only manage to pick up bits and pieces. "What?"

"Aren't lawyers supposed to be good with the whole talking thing?" he asks erupting into uncontrollable laughter.

I gawk at him, shocked by the familiar words.

"I'm sorry," Edward chokes out. "I couldn't help myself. You looked just as cute and flustered as you did that day on the softball field."

Suddenly, the ridiculous nature of the situation mingled with the look on Edward's face spurs me into a fit of giggles as well. Together, we laugh hysterically, the stress of the day releasing through unexplainable humor. Then just as suddenly, the laughter ends. The returning tension crashing against me like waves pounding a shore.

Taking a stuttering breath, Edward looks into my eyes, his face once again serious. "The day I met you was the best day of my life. You don't know how often I wish I could go back there."

"I hear the words, Edward, but they're hard to believe, especially since you were the one who chose to leave."

"Can we talk?" he asks motioning towards the living room.

"Sure," I whisper shakenly. I'm tired of hiding. If I ever expect to get my life back, I need to stop running and finally face Edward.

The room is dark except for the warm glow of the fire; the crackling logs the only sound. For my own self-preservation, I choose to sit on the reading chair in the corner, while Edward sits on the couch facing the fireplace. Curling my legs underneath me, I anxiously pick on my sleeve waiting for him to start. I feel like Alice about to go down the rabbit's hole. I'm too curious not to jump, but I have no idea what is waiting for me on the other end.

"I never told you much about my mother, did I?"

"No-o," I stammer, taken aback by where he decided to start.

"I know that memories around the ages of four and five are supposed to be fuzzy, but a lot of mine are pretty vivid. Maybe it's because that was the best part of my childhood." He pauses for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he continues. "Anyway, what I remember most is how vibrant and happy she was with my father. She smiled and laughed all the time. They seemed perfect together."

"That doesn't sound like the person you told me about when we met," I comment, surprised at the stark difference.

"No it doesn't. I guess it hurt too much to talk about who she was since I hated the woman she'd become."

"Because she was never there for you," I deduce.

"It's hard to describe what her transformation was like. One day I was a part of a loving family and then the next I was living in an emotional void. My father disappeared, and everything changed. My mother stopped paying attention to me and started going to parties instead." Edward clenches his jaw, straining to get the words out. "Her smile vanished right along with her attentiveness. I literally watched her fade into oblivion and I hated her for it."

"Are you still in contact with her?"

"I wouldn't say contact. I've been trying to get her sober, which has become a never-ending cycle of placing her in treatment, watching her get kicked out, and then finding a new facility so we can start all over again. I know she won't change until she's ready, but I keep hoping that one day something will click."

"I'm sorry, Edward. I can't imagine what that's like."

"Ironically, I think it was easier when I just hated her. I discovered some things over the last few years that made me gain a new appreciation for what happened. It's hard to accept that it might be too late for her."

"She doesn't think that she has a problem?"

"No. I've tried to visit her a couple of times, but she either refuses to see me or…" He stops, scrubbing his face with his hand. "Or she just screams at me for abandoning her like my father. She says that she can't stand me."

"I'm sorry," I whisper holding back the impulse to pull him into my arms.

Shaking his head as if trying to free himself of the sorrow, he looks up. "The worst part is wondering who the real Esme is. I'd like to think it's the women I remember, but what if that person was the farce? I've gathered pieces of information about what happened after we moved, but nothing that sheds enough light to know the truth and it's driving me crazy." He stops again, seemingly struggling to find his words.

His vulnerability opens a chasm inside my heart. Maybe we have more in common than I realize. "Seattle PD is investigating my dad. They think he was a dirty cop," I blurt out hastily. I've only been in the dark for a few days; I can't imagine not knowing the truth for years.

Stunned Edward sits up a little straighter on the couch. "What?"

"I understand what you mean about not knowing the truth. They think someone murdered him because he was involved in illegal activities. I want to prove them wrong, but I've also discovered that he was hiding things from me." I look down, watching my hands twist and untwist nervously.

"When did you find out?" Edward whispers, leaning forward.

"A few days ago. It's become so convoluted, I can't see straight. My goal is to prove him innocent, but what if I just end up proving them right?" I ask voicing the fear that's been haunting me.

"It is a difficult allegation to believe. What's their evidence?"

I almost tell him about the drawing, but quickly decide that's one detail I'm not ready to share until I have more information. "His finances were a mess. I had no clue until his death how bad things were and then…" I trail off, having trouble saying the words aloud.

"And then," Edward prompts.

"He supposedly had a secret bank account with a lot of money. He opened it shortly after his finances fell apart. I guess they think he was on the take, but it has to be a mistake. He wouldn't do that."

"It does seem out of character. Your dad was never a slave to money."

"See, it just doesn't make sense. He wouldn't go that route, no matter what."

"I agree it would have taken a lot to make him do something illegal," Edward says, his face thoughtful.

"You think there's a possibility?"

"Bella, if I've learned anything over these last few years it's that you never know what people are willing to do, especially for the ones they love. It's hard to see your dad making that choice, but as you said, he was hiding things. The Charlie I knew would do anything to protect you."

"What possible reason would he have to commit a crime?" I exclaim trying to keep the creeping doubt out of my consciousness.

"It's hard to say. One tiny thing can flip someone's entire world," he says gruffly with a sour expression.

"Sounds like you know that from experience," I utter twisting my hands harder.

Edward laughs ruefully, "You could say that. I told you I found some things out." I nod my head waiting for him to continue. "I'm, uh, pretty sure that my grandfather blackmailed my father to leave."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I also think that he was the one supplying drugs to my mom, but I can't prove it."

"Jesus."

"I felt completely justified in my anger towards my parents, but what if I was wrong? If I'd stayed, maybe she wouldn't be as bad off as she is now." Edward sighs heavily, dropping his head. "It changed everything when I found out."

Trembling at his words, I shift to pull my knees up, hugging them tightly. "Is that why you left?"

Edward's stunned eyes penetrate mine. I guess he didn't expect me to ask the million-dollar question so abruptly. "No. It ended up being a part of the result, but it wasn't the reason."

"Then I'm confused. If finding out about your mom wasn't the reason what was?"

"Fuck," he whispers. "I'm not doing this very well. I've thought about what to say to you for so long and now that we're here, I…"

"You're afraid." I finish, remembering the words he shared with Emmett earlier. "I understand, but I'm here and I'm listening."

Edward gives me a tight smile before taking a deep breath and continuing. "A couple of weeks before I left, I found out some things about my grandfather. I always knew that he was ruthless, but I never imagined that he was evil." Looking past me with a glassy stare, his voice takes on a distant tone. "But most importantly, I learned that he was dying."

"Is that when you found out about your mother and father?" I ask trying to keep him in the moment with me.

"No, I didn't find out about what he did to them until after I left. But, that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. You couldn't imagine what he was capable of, Bella," he murmurs, his voice cracking.

Unbeknownst to Edward, I actually have no problem imaging what his grandfather might have done considering who his suspected associates were. "What did you find out?" I ask curiously.

"That he was involved with the world's largest crime syndicates."

"Involved how?"

"From what I understand, he was knee deep in a bunch of their shit."

"Specifically, what kind of 'shit'?" The lawyer in me immediately follows up.

"You name it, he did it. It made me sick. Hell, it still makes me sick to know how many lives he impacted, not to mention knowing that he involved my mom."

"She was committing crimes?" I ask astonished.

"No, but he introduced her to that world. She was hobnobbing with criminal masterminds. My mother may not have done anything with her own hands, but I know she overheard a lot of their plans."

"You're angry she didn't do anything," I state knowingly, watching his spine straighten and fists clench.

"Yes!" he shouts, before dropping his shoulders and releasing a long breath. "God that's sounds horrible after everything else I told you. I know she probably felt trapped, especially if he was giving her drugs, but a part of me can't help but wonder if she wanted to stay."

"That's what you meant by not knowing the truth."

"I go back and forth constantly," he mutters. "Most of the time, I feel like I failed her, but then I think about how things would be different if she had just asked for help. Then I'm pissed again."

"What would have been different?"

"It wouldn't have been left to me to fix things, and I would still be with you," he says hauntingly, his face full of broken sadness.

"I'm trying to understand, but I'm not following how all of this is connected to you leaving. Why didn't you just tell me? I could have helped you to sort it out."

Edward nods his head. "I know and I regret that decision every day, but at the time it seemed like the best option."

"Why?"

"When I learned about his criminal associations, I also found out that he was keeping track of us, especially of you."

"Me? For what purpose?" I ask stunned.

"Because you were a threat to his plans with me," Edward spits out as if the words disgust him.

"That doesn't make any sense," I contend. Edward had already cut most of his ties to his grandfather's business when we met, so it seems ridiculous that his grandfather faulted me for the separation. Edward would have ended it completely with or without my help.

"You were the most important part in a life he never wanted me to have. He knew that both you and your father were involved in the criminal justice field, so he assumed you were pushing me into it."

"He thought that _I _got you involved with the SFPD? But you started that process before we met," I point out trying to figure out the rationale behind the bizarre assumption.

"I know," Edward sighs. "The truth is he was completely clueless about my plans. Yet, he became convinced that our relationship was the problem."

"Wow." I really didn't know what else to say.

"Wow is right. His disease-riddled mind decided that getting rid of you was the key to turning me. Even towards the end, he actually believed he could still mold me into his protégé."

"Really," I respond obscurely. Although Edward is making the plan sound ludicrous, the fact that he is running the company makes me wonder whether his grandfather was correct.

"It didn't help that he's had success with that plan before." Edward's gaze bores into mine, waiting for me to connect the dots.

"Your dad."

"Yup. Once he left, my grandfather was able to get my mom and me right where he wanted us –" Edward stops, the color abruptly draining from his face. "Fuck, I did the same thing didn't I?" He breathes out a humorless laugh. "Shit, for all the years I spent hating him for running away, I turned out to be just like the son of a bitch."

"Edward, it was a different situation. You didn't run out on a child. It was just me."

"Bella," he exhales. "There was never anything 'just' about you. You were and are everything. Don't make what I did less than what it was."

"Fine. If I really was everything, why did you leave?"

"When I first found out, it never even crossed my mind. I didn't think anything would come of his attempts to break us up, especially given how sick he was, but about a week later other things started happening."

"Like?"

"Things that proved his reach went farther than I ever imagined. I realized that I couldn't escape him, and the only way I could keep you safe was to deal with it."

"So why not tell me instead of just taking off?"

"And risk you getting involved? It paralyzed me to think about you being caught up in that world. You are so strong and independent, but so was my mom. The image of you becoming her haunted my every thought. I had to make sure that never happened. I had to stop him."

The desperation pouring out of him almost stops me from responding to his flawed rationale, yet, I couldn't let him think that I agreed with it either. "I could have handled it, Edward. You should have trusted me."

"It wasn't about a lack of trust, Bella. I just couldn't subject you to that life."

"But leaving me in the lurch was better?"

"At the time I believed I had no other options."

"You could have told me a story… anything besides disappearing without a trace!"

"I had no choice!" Edward yells, abruptly standing up and pacing. "I couldn't face you and go through with it and I knew you would see through any lie I tried to tell."

"We live in an era of constant communication, Edward. There are phones, e-mail, Facebook, Instagram. Hell, you could have tweeted it. Any of those would have been better than nothing!" I shout getting on my feet and walking over to him. "_Nothing _drives you into madness and leaves you obsessing over Every. Single. Possibility. The constant thoughts of what you could have done to drive the person you loved away. I mean, why would the perfect guy leave with no word unless it was your fault?" My chest heaves as I spew out the words I've wanted to say for years. I thought I would feel better once I threw them in his face, but now I just feel empty.

"I'm truly a monster," Edward mutters running his hands across the back of his neck. "I didn't think about all the consequences. I thought I was making the right choice for_ you_."

"This is the right choice for me?" I ask waving my hand back and forth between us. "How did you imagine this would go when you returned? Is this what you expected?"

"Honestly, I didn't expect to come back. I guess that I hoped you'd hate me enough to move on quickly."

"Oh my God!" I huff angrily, my mind still struggling to comprehend the supposed "logic" of his scheme. "Well congratulations, your plan worked perfectly." I sneer walking back to the chair. My body feels weak, the release of emotions and lack of sleep finally taking its toll.

"Believe me, it was a lesson in 'be careful of what you wish for'," Edward grumbles, flopping back on the couch.

"Because you came back. I mean you're here right, so something with your 'plan' obviously failed."

"You could say that," he grumbles. "More importantly though, I realized that the cost of losing you wasn't worth it. From that point on, my focus became about getting out and getting back to you."

"Why not reach out to me then?" I ask quietly, rubbing my eyes trying to ease the burn of exhaustion. I feel like we are going in circles.

"It wasn't that easy. Besides, what would I say? How could I explain anything over the phone or in an e-mail? Then as the days turned to months and years, it just seemed impossible."

"And facing me out of the blue was the better alternative?"

"At least I could show you my intentions," he offers weakly. "You have every right not to trust me, but I swear on my life that I'm here no matter how long it takes. I will show you every minute of every day how sorry I'm if you'd let me."

"It's not that easy, Edward," I spit out using his own words against him. "Especially when there is so much more that I need to know."

"Just ask."

"Let's go back to this information you received. How did you get it? And exactly what things started happening that made you put this craptasitc plan into action?" I inquire.

Edward stares at me, seemingly plotting his next words. "People who had a vested interest in stopping my grandfather gave me the information and made sure I knew how serious the threats were."

"Against me," I clarify.

"Yes."

"These 'people', who are they?"

Edward hesitates again, taking a deep breath. "There are some things that are better if you don't know."

"No, you don't get to play that card," I hiss leaning forward again, pinning him with my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bella, but I'm not going to risk your safety," he says remorsefully. "You don't know how much it kills me to say that, especially now."

"Sure," I mutter dismissively, leaning back against the chair. I'm too tired and frustrated to argue, but there's no way that I'm letting this go. If Edward doesn't want to tell me, I will figure out a way to find out myself. "What about your new career? Can you talk about that?" I ask sarcastically. "Because I still don't understand how learning about all of this translates into you taking over Global."

"Taking over was my chance to fix things."

_"Then all of sudden, his grandson, your friend I assume, stepped in. How well do you know Cullen?" _Sam's voice drifts into my head. It didn't sounds like things had changed from his perspective.

"Fix things how?" I ask suspiciously.

Edward stares for a moment; I can see his brain calculating. "Change his business practices by focusing on the legitimate aspect of things. Try to make up for some of his wrongdoings."

"You mean like change its associations."

"Yes."

"Associations like Riley Biers," I say throwing out the hook purposely.

"I told you, Bella. I don't have any business associations with Biers."

"And yet you can find out information regarding his illegal activities," I point out resting my head against the back of the chair.

"Only because y_ou _asked me to."

"It doesn't change the fact that you didn't blink an eye. How exactly do you have so much access?"

"There are lots of criminal organizations who also run legitimate businesses. Sometimes the contact is unavoidable and sometimes it serves a greater purpose."

"That sounds ominous," I sigh closing my eyes for a second.

"Believe me, I know exactly what I'm doing. I don't blindly follow anyone."

"I don't know what to believe," I whisper, sinking further into the chair, my mind feeling groggy.

"Bella, you know me better than anyone. That's never changed."

"How can you say that? The man I thought I knew would never leave to run a company like Global. Most of the time, I don't even recognize you."

"What do you mean?"

"You've changed, Edward. I see it in your eyes, and then tonight…" I hesitate gathering my thoughts.

"What about tonight?"

"You put yourself at risk to protect me and I appreciate, but I didn't know that man. He scared me," I admit quietly, tucking my legs back under me.

"I would do anything to protect you, Bella. I would have done the same three years ago."

"It was the execution of _how _you did it. You were almost feral, and yet still so precise in your movements. It was as if you knew exactly what to do."

"I don't know what you want me to say," he says wearily. "I can't apologize for my actions because it stopped them from hurting you, but I never want you to be scared of me. I would never hurt you, Bella."

I expel a mournful laugh. "Edward, you _did_ hurt me."

"Fuck," he breathes shamefully. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."

The room falls into a deafening silence, our words lingering in the air as his piercing eyes trap mine. Shattered, I break first. "I honestly don't know where we go from here," I whisper closing my eyes to escape.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't give up on me…on us," he pleads.

"How can I answer that when there is still so much that you're unwilling to say? When all this other crap is happening."

"I swear I'm going to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

"You have a lot to prove," I utter, my sleep-deprived body continuing to work against me, the blinks from my heavy eyelids lasting longer and longer.

"I know," he declares.

The room falls quiet once again. Closing my eyes, I listen to the crackling fire, punctuated by the sounds of Edward shifting on the couch. I can feel his eyes on me, but I'm too tired to acknowledge them.

"You need to tell me everything," I mumble, slowly losing the battle against sleep.

"I will," Edward says, but his voice sounds far away.

Somewhere in the void between consciousness and sleep, I feel my body lift. The disembodied words "you'll know everything soon enough" floating through my cloudy brain as I finally succumb to nothingness.

* * *

><p>The sound of my ring tone drags me back into consciousness. Clearing the mental cobwebs, I'm startled to find Edward snuggled against me, his tight embrace guarding me even in his sleep. I must have fallen asleep during our talk, but how that explains our sleeping arrangement, I have no idea.<p>

My phone blares again bring me out of my thoughts. Carefully, I untangle myself from his grasp and run to the table to grab it. "Hello?" I answer breathlessly.

"Bella, thank God! Are you okay?"

"Sam? Umm, yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"I heard what happened. Are you sure you're okay?"

"How did you find out?" I question before answering, curious about how the news got to him so fast.

"Since Rose was there, word got around the bureau and back to me. Why didn't you call?"

"I was going to call today. It was pretty late by the time everything was all said and done." I lower my voice when Edward turns over, grumbling against the couch.

"You haven't answered my question. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It was touch and go for a bit but….um, Edward was there and was able to stop them from doing anything," I say hesitantly remembering our last conversation about Edward.

"Cullen? Christ, this is worse than I thought."

"What are you talking about," I hiss, watching as Edward rolls over again.

"Hmm, Bella…I love you," he mumbles snuggling further into the pillow, a gentle smile crossing his lips. The sight pulls on my heart more that I care to admit.

"I found out some things in Seattle. I was right about Cullen. Look, I'm at the airport now and can be at your house in a few hours. Don't go anywhere until I get there okay."

"What did you find?" My stomach drops, the remnants of any good feelings swiftly turning to ice.

"I don't want to get into it over the phone. I know you have a history with him, but you can't trust a thing that guy says. Just...just stay away from him, okay."

"Uh huh. See you when you get here," I numbly whisper watching Edward and not really processing that I just agreed to something that's obviously impossible given that he's here.

Although there is clearly more to Edward's story, it's hard to believe that the parts he shared last night were a lie. That kind of emotion would be difficult to fake. _Difficult but not impossible_, my brain chides.

Sitting heavily on a chair, I ponder what to do next. It's time to get off this dizzying merry-go-round. Between Riley, Sam, Edward, and my dad I have no idea what to believe or who to trust. One thing is clear, however, I need to figure it out soon. It's time to take charge of my own destiny.

**Everyone keep your writing fingers crossed for me. I have a crazy week coming up, but my goal is to still post on Sunday. If I don't make it, I apologize in advance for a late post. Coming up: Bella's ready to kick some ass. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi, sorry for the one day delay.**

**First a big thank you to Fallingsnow Winter for graciously and unexpectedly making an amazing banner for this story. I was blown away. **

**I appreciate and love all the notifications and reviews. I especially love reading all the theories and thoughts on the characters, we have some split opinions on Edward and Sam. ;)**

**The chapter would not have made it to you without LostInPA, who did the quickest turn around imaginable for this chapter. She rocks! I also couldn't do this without TDS88, she helps keep my commas on track! :)  
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**As always, I own nothing but my own crazy plot twists.**

Chapter 8: In Too Deep

_"Bring me your suffering. The raffle roar of broken bones. Bring me the riot in your heart. Angry, wild and raw. Bring it all. I am not afraid of the dark."_

_Mia Hollow_

* * *

><p><em>"Dad?" I yell walking in the front door. <em>

_The house is unusually quiet, the TV dark instead of blaring a game. Setting my overnight bag on the bench in the entryway, I wander to the back of the house and out the sliding glass door. There on the porch, I find my dad smoking a cigar and leaning back in a chair with his eyes closed. _

_"Bad day?"_

_His body jerks forward, but then relaxes when he sees me, a huge smile gracing his lips. "Jesus Christ, Bells. Give a guy a little warning next time. You trying to give your old man a heart attack?" He stands up and pulls me into a loving hug before settling back into his spot._

_"Always be prepared. Isn't that what you taught me?" I joke sitting next to him. "You haven't smoked for a long time. Everything okay?" _

_"Yeah," he breathes out, brushing off my concern. "Just a crazy day. How about you? What's with the unexpected visit?"_

_"Can't a daughter visit her father?" I ask sweetly trying to divert the conversation. _

_"Of course, except that I know you. What's up?" _

_"It was a long week, so I decided to get away." _

_My dad stares at me, searching for something; I don't really know what. Leaning forward, he finally speaks. "That's it! This has gone on long enough."_

_"What?"_

_"You've lost your spark, kid. I see it in your eyes, and I've just about had it with your moping around." _

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me. It time's to let Edward go." _

_I open my mouth to argue, but stop knowing that it would be pointless. He knows me too well. "I'm trying." _

_"You know when I knew you were going to succeed in this world?" he asks, throwing me off with the change of topic._

_"When?" _

_"We were at a playground when you were about four years old. You were playing in the sandbox when this older boy took a toy away from the little girl next to you. You watched them for a minute before your little face got this look of determination. It was so cute," my dad laughs trying to mimic the face he remembers. "Anyway, out of the blue you stood up and demanded that he give the toy back." _

_"I don't remember that," I whisper, sorting through vague memories. _

_"This boy was several inches taller than you, but it didn't matter. You stood there with your hands on your hips, staring him down even though you were looking up. He refused to give you the toy, so you reached out and just took it from him. When you turned around to give it back to the little girl, the boy yanked your hair pretty good. Before I could get over there, you swung around and pushed him. You didn't back down an inch, getting right into his face and telling him that he better not do that again."_

_"Really?"_

_"Really. Your mother was mortified, but I couldn't have been more proud. I knew right then and there that my little girl wasn't going to let life defeat her. It's also why I wasn't surprised when you decided to become a prosecutor. Even then you cared about fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves." _

_"Destiny," I chuckle. _

_"Uh huh," my dad hums sipping from his beer._

_"Not that I mind the trip down memory lane, but what does that have to do with anything?" _

_"You need to get back in the game. You need to find that spark again."_

_"Dad," I huff annoyed. "You make it sound like I'm cowering in a corner somewhere. I'm living my life, and most importantly, still kicking ass in court. I'm not seeing a problem here." _

_"When's the last time you went on a date?"_

_"I don't think that's any of your business."_

_"Try again, kiddo. Everything you do is my business. Come on, we're not 'beat around the bush' kinds of people. Be straight with me."_

_He's right; we never hide anything from each other. "Okay, fine. It's been a while." _

_"You loved Edward."_

_"Yes," I whisper. _

_"You know better than anyone that I understand loss. Your mother was everything to me, and when she died I had a choice to make, either let it beat me or move forward."_

_"And you moved forward," I sigh. "But our situations are a bit different. Mom died, she didn't choose to leave." _

_"It doesn't make the loss any less painful."_

_"That's not what I mean." _

_"People come into our lives for a reason, both good and bad. It is not the easy parts of life that build character, honey, it's the difficult ones." _

_"Aren't you the Hallmark greeting card," I mutter sarcastically. _

_My dad raises his eyebrow, clearly not amused. "And here comes the deflection."_

_"I'm just having a hard time finding the reason for this one, okay." _

_"Edward helped you to see magic. What he did was wrong, but don't lose that joy because it didn't work out. This is your life. Take it back with no apologies."_

_"That's easier said than done." I can almost taste the bitterness of the words in my mouth. _

_"Life is always beautiful, especially in its ugliness. There is still magic in the world, Bells. Like the saying goes, when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." He throws his arm around my shoulder to pull me closer and kiss my temple. "It's time to become a butterfly." _

* * *

><p>I've allowed myself to drift through the events of my life for far too long. Permitting outside circumstances to rule my choices and determine my path. If I were honest, I'd have to admit that it started after Edward left, but it's become a hundred times worse since my dad was killed.<p>

"No more," I whisper. This is _my_ life and _my_ father.

I look over to the couch where Edward is still sleeping peacefully, murmuring my name again. I contemplate whether I should get him out now or just prepare for the fallout that will occur when Sam arrives. Given their first interaction and Sam's warning, I doubt that either will be pleased to be in the same room together.

Sam is obviously convinced that Edward is untrustworthy and considering his recent support, I can't blindly discount his concern. On the other hand, Edward seemed sincere last night, his emotions so raw. He's done nothing but pledge his devotion since his return, however, I also can't ignore that he's hiding things.

Before I can come to any resolution, my cellphone blares again. Glancing down at the name on the screen, I roll my eyes and prepare for an unpleasant conversation. "Hello, Mike."

"You know what I love? Getting phone calls early in the morning about one of my employees," Newton hisses into my ear. "Just what in the hell were thinking? I mean Jesus Christ, Swan!"

"Why yes, Mike, I'm fine. Thanks so much for asking," I sarcastically sneer in return.

"Cut the crap, I'm not completely heartless. I checked to make sure you were okay before I called."

"Aww, how sweet of you." I have no doubt that his "concern" has more to do with whether an injury would affect his life versus my wellbeing.

"_And _since you are fine, my priority is the Biers case. The incredibly high-profile case that you just shot all to hell."

"I didn't shoot anything. The case is just fine."

"Not from where I'm sitting. Is it or isn't true that your father's murder is connected to Riley Biers?"

"I don't know."

"What?" he yells incredulously.

"I said I don't know! Nothing is conclusive, but yes there might be a connection."

Out of my peripheral vision, I notice that Edward is now sitting on the couch rubbing his eyes. Standing up, he walks over to me, concern marring his face.

"You should have come to me immediately! Do you know what this means? Anything you've touched is tainted. Years of work down the drain while a criminal psychopath walks away scot-free."

"Don't be so fucking dramatic, Mike. I didn't find out about the_ possible_ connection until just a couple of days ago. The only thing I've done since then is start the paperwork on some warrants for his property, which aren't even filed yet."

"Do _you _believe that there's a connection?"

"Yes," I whisper hesitantly.

"Then you were obligated to let me know as soon as you suspected. No matter when you found out, his lawyers will argue that you knew all along, followed quickly by a motion to throw the case out with prejudice."

"I doubt any judge will go for that."

"Maybe, maybe not, but regardless, writing the briefs and arguing our side will take time away from preparing for the _actual_ trial."

"You're right," I admit begrudgingly. Edward's eyes continue to implore mine. He never liked how Mike treated me. "In all fairness though, it came out of nowhere, and it took me a while to process what it all meant. Hell, I'm still processing it."

"That doesn't matter. As an officer of the court, you're held to a higher standard."

"I understand." I clench my fists to stop myself from saying something I'll regret.

"I want you to turn over all of your files and any and all work product related to the case to Garrett by the end of the day."

"Yes, sir," I mumble.

"Also considering what happened last night, I think it's best if you take a leave of absence."

"You're suspending me?" I yell. Edward moves closer, putting a supportive hand on my back.

"No, you're not suspended. However, considering you were just assaulted and that you're still dealing with the loss of your father, I think now is a good time to take a step back and find some perspective."

"But—"

"I want to take this son of a bitch down, Bella. I can't do that with you in the office. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I agree, hating to admit that he's right. With even just a hint of a conflict of interest, his lawyers will hit hard. My being around will only add fuel to their fire and arguments.

"Good. I will send someone to pick up the files. Take care and I will call if there's any relevant information that you should know," he says formally.

Hanging up, I slam my phone down frustrated that I just lost access to the information I need to figure this out.

"I see that Newton is still the same," Edward grumbles.

"Yup. Unfortunately, some things never change," I mutter avoiding his inquiring eyes.

"What was all that talk about a suspension?"

"He's putting me on administrative leave."

"I always wanted to knock that fucking smirk right off his face, maybe now's the time," Edward contemplates, his jaw tightening.

"As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. I'd comprise everything if I'm around the office right now."

Maybe my unexpected "vacation" will work to my advantage. It will give me more time to sort out all of these inconsistencies surrounding my life. The only challenge will be getting access to information. I guess I could always rely on alternative channels instead.

"Bella? Bella!" Edward's concerned voice disrupts my train of thought.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you are okay."

I must have drifted off more than I realized. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. Taking some time off might be good right now."

"Being off the case is probably safer," Edward rationalizes.

"Right," I respond causally not wanting him to know that stepping away is the last thing I intend to do.

"So, uh, how are you doing…you know after last night?" Edward nervously looks at the floor.

"Okay, I guess, but I am curious as to how I ended up on the couch with you."

Edward looks up, slightly embarrassed. "I thought the couch would be more comfortable, especially since I was too keyed up to need it. As strange as it sounds, watching you sleep helped me to sort out some things in my head. I guess at some point I crashed." He takes a step closer. "I should say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I haven't slept that good in a long time," he whispers, a familiar spark in his eyes.

"Please don't push me, Edward. I'm not ready," I say stepping out of his reach. There is just too much to resolve before I allow him to get any closer.

"Of course. I promised I would give you time and I will."

Luckily, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs prevents us from falling into awkward small talk. Apparently, neither of us knows exactly how to act after the revelations of last night.

"Good morning, sunshine," Emmett bellows, walking into the dining room with Rose following closely behind.

"Morning," I say with a smile while Edward simply acknowledges everyone with a nod of his head.

"Man, I'm starving!" Emmett announces rubbing his stomach.

"Subtle, Em. Would you like some breakfast?" I ask sweetly.

"Aww, Bells. How generous of you. I would love some!" He winks.

"You're such an ass," Rose adds smacking him lightly on the back of the head.

"Yes, but I'm your ass, baby." He leans down to give her a kiss.

"How about crepes and omelets?" I ignore the feelings bubbling up watching them interact. I miss having that connection with someone. "Oh, by the way, Sam called earlier. He's on his way," I blurt out wanting to see how Edward reacts to the news.

"From Seattle?" Rose asks.

I nod my head. "He said he found something. He didn't sound happy."

"Hopefully, it gives us a better lead than what we have now," Emmett says.

"Is this the Sam from the other night?" Edward asks gruffly.

"Yeah. Don't feel like you have to stick around," I say offhandedly, allowing him an out.

Another ringtone pierces the air, although this time it's Edward's phone and not mine that interrupts our conversation. Taking it out of his pocket, he quickly glances at the screen. "What's up, Kate?" He listens quietly, mumbling in agreement. With sudden determination, he looks directly at me as he responds. "No, I'm not coming in today. Send it to my phone, I can review it from here…just reschedule them…no this is more important…then I'll deal with the consequences…Is there anything else? Okay talk to you later." He hangs up his phone decisively. "I'm staying."

"Okay then," I acknowledge, heading into the kitchen so that I can start getting breakfast together. I'm not sure how I feel about Edward's decision to stay. I should be relieved that he's not concerned, and yet I don't know if I'm up for another confrontation.

"You really don't have to make us breakfast, Bella. That's not why we're here," Rose says following me.

"It's okay, I really don't mind."

"Can I help?" Edward asks quietly.

"Um, no offense, but I think it would be best if you stay away from all food preparation," I assert remembering how dangerous he was in the kitchen.

He gives me a shy smile. "Actually, I've taken some cooking classes, and I'm pretty good if I do say so myself."

"This I have to see," Emmett laughs.

"Really?" I'm shocked considering that his skills were beyond redemption. I wonder what master chef helped him.

"Really. In fact, why don't you let me handle breakfast? If you aren't impressed, I promise never to step foot in your kitchen again."

"I'm not sure," I say hesitantly.

"Please, let me do this." Edward's eyes are soft and pleading.

"Fine."

"Come on, Bella, pull up a chair, and let's watch the master at work. This should be fun," Emmett says sarcastically, pulling out the stool next to him.

"Actually, I think that I'm going to take a shower so I don't have to witness the disaster."

"You just wait. I will amaze your senses and palette," Edward claims with a crooked smile.

"Uh huh," I mumble before turning to walk up the stairs. "By the way, the fire extinguisher is under the sink." His laughter follows me up the stairs.

Once I get to my bedroom, I walk over to the nightstand and pull out a notebook. I need to organize my thoughts. Grabbing a pen, I write down the details of Edward's story last night, specifically timeframes. What he conveniently left out of our discussion was names.

I decide that my first priority is finding out exactly who shared information about this supposed threat with Edward. Secondly, I need to know more about what Global has been up to over the last three years. If Edward is being honest about his reason for taking over, it should show through their business transactions.

Flipping the page over, I write out what I need to know about my dad, starting with this mysterious bank account. Sam never gave me the specifics of exactly where this account is located or how they discovered it. I also take a moment to draw a rough sketch of the symbol I found in his journal. Figuring out why it was there might just be the key to everything. After writing everything out, I pull out my phone and dial a familiar number.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite justice junkie. I've been waiting for your call," Ben Cheney proclaims as soon as he picks up the phone.

"And why is that?"

"You know that Paul is worse than a school girl when it comes to gossip. He told me all about what went down at the Fillmore. In fact, I'm a little insulted that it took you so long to ask for my services."

Ben is a private investigator who likes to live on the fringe of society. On the down low a little over two and a half years ago, Paul introduced us when I was struggling to get movement on a case. The authorities had reached a dead end and Paul suggested that Ben might be able to help me. He runs a very specialized practice, and I learned quickly that his talents know no end. He also doesn't tend to get his information through traditional channels, which is why he is my last resort only when I need help to point me in the right direction on a case.

I don't know specifically how they met, but I know that Paul trusts Ben with his life. Although I have only used his services on a handful of occasions, in a strange twist of fate, Ben has become a trusted, albeit secret, friend of mine as well. Since no one, not even Jasper, knows about him, he is also currently the only person in my life not personally involved in this crazy situation.

"Believe me, I wish I had called sooner. Things are so fucked up, I can't even explain it."

"I'm guessing we need to track these assholes down."

"It's actually a lot more complicated than that, Ben."

"Oh complicated, my favorite. How badly do you want information?"

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"Yup. You okay with me using all means?"

"Whatever it takes," I answer definitively.

"You got it," he says. I can hear the excited smirk in his voice. "Give me the rundown on these creeps. Do we know anything about them?"

"Wait, I really want you to understand what you're getting into here," I warn. "And if you decide that it's too much, you can walk away, and I won't think twice about it."

"Aww, Justice, you should know me better than that. You just threw down the gauntlet. I don't care what the deal is. I am all in, so lay it on me."

I spend the next several minutes laying out the details of my twisted tale. Finally finished, the line is eerily silent, making me wonder if he was wrong in his belief that he could handle it.

"You weren't kidding about complications," he whispers. "But it sounds like a party I don't want to miss either."

"Really?" I ask thankfully.

"Are you kidding? Espionage, criminal master minds…you can't write this shit. I told you that I love a challenge."

"Where do we start?"

"First let me find out exactly who and where this Diego is. That will give us an idea of what else he is involved in, as well as give me some more trails to follow. I also want to track down this supposed bank account and verify that it was actually your father who opened it."

"How long do you think that will take?"

"Not long, I just need to get access," he says confidently.

"What kind of access?"

"Justice, there are some things you shouldn't know about. Plausible deniability doesn't just work for the bad guys. Let me worry about the how's."

"Okay."

"I'll also run a check on Global and Edward Cullen to see if I can get some specifics on his whereabouts over the last three years. Bella," he says quietly, "it sounds like this guy meant a lot to you. Are you sure you want to know all the details?"

"I'm sure. I can't keep running from things."

"As long as you're sure. Now what about this Sam guy? Do you trust him?"

"Yes...I guess, I mean Rose says he's a good agent and he's been trying to help me."

"Yeah, well I'm not willing to take anything at face value at this point. I think I'll take a little look-see into him too."

"Thank you, Ben. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Don't mention it. That's what I'm here for. I've wanted to help ever since I learned about your dad's death, but Paul convinced me to hold off. He said you needed to ask for help in your own time. I'm just glad that you finally called."

"Me too."

"I'll be in touch soon," he says before hanging up.

Glancing at the clock, I realize that I'd better get ready before someone comes looking for me. Turning on the radio in my bathroom, I step into the shower and linger under the spray longer than normal, letting the hot water wash the craziness of yesterday off me. There is still a lot ahead of me, but calling Ben has given me a sense of direction and a purpose that I haven't felt in a long time.

Feeling refreshed and focused, I step out of the bathroom to grab my clothes just as the bedroom door opens and Edward walks in slowly still knocking. "Bella," he says loudly, stopping short when he sees me. His eyes scan my body, my hand automatically tightening my grasp on the towel. "I'm sorry. I knocked several times, but you didn't answer. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he chokes out, averting his eyes.

"I had the radio on," I whisper. "What do you need?"

"Breakfast is ready."

"Thanks, I'll be right down."

"Umm, yeah, I should let you get dress," he says glancing down my body again while backing out of the door.

"Hey, any suggestions on the attire I should wear for my last meal?" I ask trying to lighten the mood. We're never going to get anywhere if we stay locked in this 'awkward' zone. The more information I can get from Edward, the easier it will be for Ben to track down the details of his life these last three years.

Edward shoots me a blinding smile. "Be nice, Swan or I'll never cook for you again."

"Sounds like a win rather than a threat."

"Just wait. Once you taste it, you'll be eating your words."

"We'll see. Oh and Cullen, my eyes are up here," I say sarcastically waving my hand in front of my face. Edward blushes giving me a tight smile, before darting out the door, closing it behind him.

* * *

><p>The kitchen smells heavenly when I get back downstairs, the sight stopping me in my tracks. Edward has transformed the island into a breakfast heaven. Three perfect place settings sit in front of the stools, the napkin nicely presented in the center. In the middle of the counter, there is a bowl filled with fresh cut strawberries. Next to it, sits a plate of homemade waffles and a dish of fluffy eggs. I have seriously underestimated Edward's new cooking abilities if this tastes half as good as it looks and smells.<p>

"Why are there only three settings?" I ask, trying to play off how impressed I am.

"Rose went to the DOJ to talk to Jasper," Emmett answers. I'm not surprised that she left. Rose isn't one to keep quiet for long. It was only a matter of time before she and Edward got into it again.

"Any updates?" I ask.

"No. Jasper's not getting anywhere, so Rose is going to try and pull some strings."

"I take it that the other guy got away."

"Yeah, there's no sign of him," Emmett confirms.

"Yet," Edward adds.

"Come on, the more time that passes the less likely we are to find him," I point out.

"Not necessarily. That's the thing with criminal organizations," Edward retorts, "they're like a house of cards. Once they start to tumble, everything tends to falls apart quickly. All we need is the right card, and then people will give him up."

Emmett glances at Edward oddly for a moment before focusing back on the food. "I'm starving, let's eat."

Sitting down, I pile food on my plate, still amazed that Edward did all of this. Dipping my fork into the eggs, I look up to find him staring at me. A nervous grin plastered on his face. "I promise these are a hundred percent better than last time."

Raising my eyebrow, I look him straight in the eye putting the eggs in my mouth and chewing. I work to keep my face neutral, but it is hard considering that they are fantastic. Light, fluffy, cheesy, and perfectly seasoned.

"Holy hell, this tastes amazing. Bella, I think you just lost your title for most kick ass breakfast," Emmett murmurs, stuffing more food into his mouth.

"They are good," I acknowledge. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"I spent several months in Paris after I left. There was a cooking school down the block from my apartment. I convinced one the chefs to give me lessons at night."

"What made you suddenly interested in cooking?"

"You," he declares with a shy smile. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh," I say quietly, processing the implications of his words.

"It killed me not to be able to contact you. The least I could do is make sure that every choice I made was for you." As usual, our conversation feels heavy, loaded with unspoken implications. At least today, there is less hesitation behind his words.

"When were you in Paris?" I ask putting a mental timetable together.

"About six months after I left."

His admission lingers in my mind as we eat quietly. I'm not sure how I feel about his answer. He admitted last night that he changed his plans about staying away, but I didn't realize how quickly that change occurred.

Finished with my breakfast, I stand to put my plate in the sink, when Emmett stops me. "I'll get this. Edward cooked and you put me up for the night. That means the dishes are mine. Why don't you go and relax for a while."

"Sure," I answer sarcastically knowing that there's no way I'll be able to rest before Sam's arrival, especially with this nervous energy pulsing through my veins.

"Bella, I'm going to get a change of clothes out of my car. Do you mind if I use your bathroom to clean up?" Edward asks, finishing his breakfast as well.

"Of course not. There are towels under the sink, and there should be extra soap and shampoo in the shower."

"Thanks," he says giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Knowing that I just can't sit around, I decide to get the files together for Garrett and clean up the mess left behind by going through my dad's boxes. After putting the Biers files in a travel crate, I box up my dad's stuff again. Walking over to the hall closet, I look at the remaining boxes that I still have to go through. For organizational purposes, I decide that it would be better to pull those boxes out before putting the others back. After everything that happened last night, I don't know if everyone is still planning to help me go through them, but I should be ready just in case.

Standing on my tiptoes, I reach up to pull one of the top boxes down. Using my fingertips, I awkwardly scoot the heavy box forward so that I can get a better grip on it. Moving it incrementally off the edge of the other box, the laws of gravity suddenly take over. The majority of the box's weight falls heavily against my arms as the back end remains perched precariously against the edge of the other box.

"Crap," I mutter wondering how I'm going to get out of this without injury or embarrassment.

Before the box falls any further, I unexpectedly feel heat against my back as strong arms reach around, the smells of soap, mint, and Edward surrounding me.

"I got it," Edward whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

"Thanks," I breathe out.

Edward easily lifts the box over me and walks out of the closet. I shake off the tingling sensation he leaves behind and follow him out, wishing that my body and mind would coordinate their responses to him.

"What's the plan with these?" he asks, rolling up the sleeves of his red shirt.

His hair is still wet, his jeans hanging loose on his hips. The gauze is now absent from his head and his face looks better than yesterday. As usual, he looks like he could have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.

"I wanted to move these out and those in," I say pointing towards the pile of boxes I gathered earlier.

"Got it," he says eagerly going back into the closet to take out another box.

While he focuses on that, I start bringing the other boxes closer to the closet. Taking a black marker out of my desk, I mark each top with an X so that I can keep track of the ones I've sorted through and the one's I haven't.

Within no time, Edward finishes pulling out the unsorted boxes, and then quickly turns his attention to putting the others away. Watching as Edward places the last box in the closet, I struggle not to stare at his toned arms. When he turns to close the door, I spot some unexpected black peeking out from under his shirt on his left bicep.

"When did you get that?" I ask lightly placing my hand on his arm.

He swiftly looks down at my hand before looking back up, his face full of confusion and hope. Curious, my eyes silently ask permission to look. Nodding his head, I shove the material up further slowly revealing the entire tattoo.

The majority of the unique symbol resides on his shoulder. In the center of the design, there is a dagger with a handle that has three rounded points. Above the handle, two arching points curl around the dagger on the outside. Two half circles surrounding the blade on the inside. Its shaded black, some parts lighter than others.

"What does it mean," I ask tracing the shape with my finger.

"It's a tribal symbol for faith. I got it to remind myself of why I was doing this."

"It's beautiful," I mumble still fascinated by the intricate details.

"See this," he asks brushing his fingers over the swirling letters in the middle of the blade. "It's the word 'heart' written in Sanskrit and this," he says pointing to a tiny "B" in the center of the middle point, "is where my heart lies." The b is almost completely hidden within the shading. Without him pointing it out, I would have missed it. The knowledge of its presence clearly intended for him only.

"Oh," I whisper, my breath hitching at the sight.

"I told you last night, Bella, my feelings have never changed."

"All's quiet on the western front," Emmett's hollers as he walks through the door after doing another check with the patrols outside.

Jumping away from Edward, I clear my throat before answering. "No news?"

"Nope."

"It seems ridiculous to have patrols watching me. There's no evidence that he's coming back anytime soon and Riley's not stupid enough to try again with all of this attention."

"We don't know that he won't either and it's not worth the risk to find out," Edward argues.

"It's my call to make."

"Actually, it's not," Emmett interrupts. "Word came in this morning that the FBI, specifically Sam, is officially taking over. I guess he's going to assess the need for your security detail when he gets here."

"Great," Edward grumbles.

This could work to my advantage. I think I can probably convince him that they are unnecessary. I will need some leeway to investigate things on my own; having a detail makes going anywhere problematic.

A knock on the door prevents Edward from making another argument. "Speak of the devil," Emmett comments looking out the peephole.

"Bella." Sam rushes in and pulls me into a hug as soon as Emmett opens the door. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Stepping out of his arms, I give him a small smile. "I'm fine."

"What the hell is he doing here?" Sam shouts finally noticing Edward standing behind me.

"It's none of your business why I'm here. You're not her keeper," Edward snarls back.

"He was already here when you called," I clarify. "I decided that he could stay."

"Bella, we need to talk." Sam wraps his hand around my arm. "In private," he clarifies glaring at Edward.

"Whatever you have to say to her, you can say right here," Edward argues moving closer to me.

"This is official business, Cullen. Besides I don't trust you."

"Oh good, then we're even because I don't trust you either." Edward's eyes keep glancing down to Sam's hand on my arm.

"I'm not the one who's on a watch list, so if you want to talk about who should trust who, let's do it," Sam yells pulling me slightly behind him.

"Knock it off you two!" Emmett shouts, stepping between them. Edward continues to glare at Sam's hand, his nostrils flaring as his body leans forward.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Edward's tone is chilling.

"I think I know more that you realize," Sam sneers back.

Edward cocks his head to side, evaluating him closely. I can see his mind working to figure out Sam's angle. "What do you think you know?" he asks lowly not backing down. He doesn't seem worried about what Sam might say.

"I hear that you're following of the footsteps of your grandfather. Tell me, Cullen, you gonna lock Bella up just like your mother after you ruin her life too?"

"You son of a bitch!" Edward shouts moving forward. Breaking my arm free of Sam's grasp, I jump in between them, holding my hand out to prevent Edward from moving closer. Emmett focuses his attention on stopping Sam.

"That's enough!" I yell. "That was out of line, Sam," I chastise glaring at him. "And you," I say directing my heated gaze towards Edward. "Need to back away. I don't feel like turning my hallway into a boxing ring."

"I'm cool," Edward spits out, although I can feel his heart pounding against the palm of my hand.

"I think you should leave," Sam hisses.

"That's not your decision," Edward growls back.

"Edward," I whisper trying to get him to focus on me. "I need to talk to Sam, _alone_."

Edward's wide eyes turn to me. "Bella—"

Grabbing his hand, I pull him over to the corner of the room. He stumbles along behind me, his hand grasping mine tightly. "I appreciate your concern, but I don't have time for a macho standoff."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Well you're not. I need to talk to Sam and that's obviously not going to happen as long as the two of you are in a room together."

"I don't trust him," Edward whispers, leaning closer his hand still clenching mine.

"Yeah I got that, but you also don't know him. He's FBI for God's sake."

"Like that means anything," he murmurs.

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't take anything at face value, Bella." His words eerily mimic Ben's.

"Does that include you?" I ask irritated.

"I know I owe you the whole truth, but you can always believe that everything I do is for your benefit. Not everyone else can say the same," he utters cryptically.

"Hey," Emmett interrupts walking over. "Edward, let's go for a walk and give them a moment." Edward opens his mouth to protest, but Emmett cuts him off. "According to Rose, Sam's a good guy. We need to know what is going on if we are going to keep Bella safe. This pissing contest between the two of you is getting in the way. Let's just give them fifteen minutes."

"Thirty," I counter ignoring Edward's glare. "It's either that or you can just go. You're here on my invite, remember. If you can't do as I ask, you can leave." I glare right back, pointing my chin up. I refuse to back down on this. Edward doesn't have the right to make any decisions for me.

"Fine," he grates, knowing that he's not going to win. Stepping closer he reaches out and gently places his hands on my face. "Just remember, you know me better than anyone." Leaning forward, he kisses my forehead. His lips linger for a moment before he pulls away, his dark green eyes penetrating mine. "I love you."

Walking to the door with Emmett, he turns around, pinning Sam with a deadly stare. "I'll be back," he warns.

"See you in thirty," Emmett adds, pushing Edward forward so that he can close the door behind him.

As soon as the door shuts, Sam focuses all of his attention on me. "I asked you to stay away from the guy, not to invite him into your house. What in the hell were you thinking?" Sam barks.

"That's the second time someone has questioned my decisions today. I'm getting kind of sick of it." I walk to the living room, leaving Sam to decide whether he's going to follow.

"Maybe that should tell you something," he remarks.

Sitting on the chair, I motion for him to take a seat on the couch. "Maybe people should stop assuming that I don't know what I'm doing. Edward was already here when you called. It seemed pointless to tell him to leave."

Taking a deep breath, Sam tries to calm down. "I'm just looking out for you. This situation is spiraling out of control. We don't need to help it along any."

"Edward was the one who stopped those guys last night and got pretty beat up in the process. I didn't see the harm in letting him stay."

"You might change your mind after I show you what I found." He pulls an envelope out of his jacket.

"I thought you were looking into my dad, not Edward?" I ask, watching closely as he takes a photograph out and unfolds it.

"I was. I ran into this when looking into what your dad was doing."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"This was found in your dad's desk buried under a bunch of other papers. He clearly didn't want someone else to see it. Look familiar?" he asks handing me the blurry photo.

My heart pounds as my hand reaches out to grab it. The photo looks like it was taken from a distance, but not far enough away to prevent me from identifying the people it. The picture shows Edward standing on what looks like a pier, talking to none other than Riley Biers. Riley also appears to be handing something to him.

"When was this taken?" I whisper, breathless.

"We don't know. But don't you find it strange that he suddenly reappears in your life now? At the exact moment you're preparing to prosecute Biers. He's using your history against you, Bella. How do we know that he didn't have something to do with your dad's murder? You can't trust him."

"But last night…" I trail off trying to put all the pieces together.

"You mean how he just happened to be around when you were attacked?"

"He fought them off," I say quietly.

"He made you see what he wanted you to see, Bella. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Why would my dad have this?"

Sam looks down, clasping his hands tightly. "I don't know how to tell you this, Bella, but it's not looking good for your dad either."

"I don't understand." I put down the picture and run my hand through my hair trying to focus.

"Internal Affairs didn't give me all the details when I talked to them earlier. The investigation against your dad actually started before his death. He was assigned to investigate two separate cases that were connected to Riley's crew. Both cases were dismissed after critical evidence disappeared, and the dates of those dismissals coincide with a deposit made to your father's bank account."

"That makes no sense. I don't believe it!" I shout standing up.

"I wish I had something else to tell you, but there is more evidence to show that he was involved than not. Hell, maybe your ex brought him into this whole thing. Maybe Edward threatened to hurt you if your father didn't go along with it," he hypothesizes.

Moving back to the chair, I lean down and pick up the picture again. Holding it up closely, I try to look at Edward's face. It's hard to distinguish any details. I don't care what the evidence says; nothing about this situation makes sense. I can't help but think about last night when Edward and I were discussing my father. He seemed genuinely surprised and concerned. Could that have really all been a lie?

"I don't believe it," I mutter sitting back down.

Moving over to me, Sam kneels down and places his hand on mine rubbing it gently. "Hey, I'm on your side. We'll figure this out, okay."

"Yeah, okay," I mutter dismissively. Everyone keeps telling me not to take anything at face value. As far as I'm concerned, that includes what Sam is saying too. "How long do I need a detail?"

Sam leans back on his heels, surprised by my question. "At this point, I don't think the other guy is coming back. Riley wouldn't allow that much heat on him. We can probably call them off for now, if you promise to take some precautions."

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm sorry, Bella. I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, but I meant what I said, we will figure this out."

"Thank you," I say placating him.

"What can I do?" he asks with sympathetic eyes.

"Can you give me some time? I need to process all this."

"Of course," he says sadly. "Listen, about those precautions, I don't want you to go anywhere alone. When you're here, keep your alarm engaged and your phone handy just in case."

"I can do that."

"Most importantly, please stay away from Edward Cullen," he implores.

"You know I can't agree to that, he's coming back in about twenty minutes." Sam's eyes darken. "But I promise to be careful."

"I guess I'll have to take that, for now," he sighs running his hand through his hair. "Do you plan on going into work tomorrow? I could pick you up and take you if you want?" Sam leans down to try to look in my eyes. I can tell he's concerned by my stoic answers.

"That's not necessary. I'm on leave until this all over," I grumble still annoyed by Mike's call.

"Oh, well in that case, how about I bring dinner over tomorrow night?" His other hand continues to rub the top of mine.

"Umm, why don't you give me a call and we'll see." I don't want to commit to anything; I have some plans of my own.

"I really don't feel good about leaving you like this." Sam sighs, his hand moving up to my shoulders.

"In the last few days, I've been attacked, placed on leave, and found out that my father might be a criminal. I need some time alone to sort it all out or my head is going to explode. Believe me, the best thing you can do right now is leave."

Releasing my shoulder, Sam reluctantly stands. "I'm going to call later and see how you're doing."

"Sounds good." I stand too, herding him towards the front. "I'll talk to you soon," I say opening the door.

"Yeah, talk to you soon," he whispers clearly not wanting to leave, but at this point I don't really care. His presence is suffocating.

Closing the door as soon as he steps onto the porch, I pull my phone from my pocket and rush up the stairs.

"Justice! We must be on the same wavelength. I was just about to call you," Ben says immediately.

"Good, I have something for you too. So, where in the world are you Carmen San Diego, I feel like a road trip."

"Got something?"

"I have a picture I want you to take a look at."

"Lucky for you, I'm only a few hours away. I'll text you the address, but you'll need a GPS to get here."

"Got it, and Ben, I hope it goes without saying that I don't want anyone to know where I'm going, including Paul."

"Sweetheart, living off the grid is my specialty. Your secret is safe with me."

"Great! I'll see you soon."

"Be safe," he calls out as I hang up.

I dash around my room throwing my wallet and a few other essentials into a bag. Walking into my closet, I grab the small box on the top shelf. Keying in the code, I open it and pull out the gun my father gave me when I moved to San Francisco. Stuffing it into the bag along with an extra pair of clothes, I grab my coat and run back downstairs knowing that I don't have much time before Emmett and Edward return.

Throwing on my hoodie to cover my head, I close the front door and move over to the edge of my property rather than walk down the sidewalk. Creeping along the hedge, I peer around the corner to where the patrol car had been located. I'm happy to see that spot is now empty. Sam did his job quickly.

Not seeing any sign of Edward and Emmett, I step out and walk quickly to the tiny garage next to my house. Using my key on the lock, I throw the door up and rush inside. The air in my car smells stale and dusty; I haven't driven it since right after my dad died. I usually only used it when I went to visit him. Pulling the car out into the drive, I jump back out to close and lock the door again.

Hitting the contacts icon, I find Emmett's number so that I can send him a message letting him know that I had to run an errand and not to worry. My friends will be less than pleased with my decision, but this is something that I have to do. Then typing in the address Ben sent into my phone, I engage the GPS and pull out into the street.

After weaving my way through the city, I pull onto the freeway with the sun in my rearview mirror. Feeling a strange combination of excitement and uneasiness, I push down harder on the accelerator wanting to escape quicker. I realize that I'm about to travel down a dark path, but it's one that I'm willing to take. I have no choice; I have to find the truth.

**My work schedule continues to be crazy over the next few weeks, so the next chapter will post in two weeks. Up next: We meet Ben. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Happy Sunday!**

**I am so grateful for all the reviews and notifications for the last chapter. I continue to be blown away by everyone's support! A huge thank you to TWCS for choosing this story as one of their stories of the week last week. I am honored. **

**LostInPA is amazing. She is so generous with her time and I am so thankful that she is a part of my team!**

Chapter Nine: Think Twice

_"…throw roses into the abyss and say: 'here is my thanks to the monster who didn't succeed in swallowing me alive'."_

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

><p><em>The full moon creates a hazy glow around me, the stillness of the beach disrupted only by the waves crashing against the shore. My body won't stop shivering. The cold sand feels like shards of ice assaulting my legs while the blanket I'm wrapped in provides little protection against the piercing wind. Yet, I remain quiet and vigil, hoping that my presence alone is enough to help. <em>

_Edward has been distracted all week. Something is weighing heavily on him, although he denies it every time I ask. An hour ago, he unexpectedly showed up at my door asking me to take a drive, unfazed by the fact that it was one o'clock in the morning. However, I didn't hesitate to go assuming his invitation meant that he was finally ready to confide in me._

_We've been sitting silently on the beach for the last twenty minutes while he stares off into the distance, clutching my hand tightly. I want to give him space to work this through, but his odd behavior is starting to worry me. _

_"What do you dream?" Edward asks keeping his eyes forward._

_"Huh?" A gust of wind sends another tremor through my body as I awkwardly try to pull the blanket tighter with one hand. _

_"Are your dreams pleasant? They seem to be."_

_"As good as most people I guess. How about yours?" I inquire, believing that route will open a door to his consciousness more than questioning him about why he wants to know. _

_"Mine are pretty haunted," he whispers._

_"What haunts them?" I inch closer wanting him to feel my presence._

_A bitter laugh escapes his lips, his hand gripping mine harder. "Right now? Everything."_

_"Edward, what's wrong?"_

_"Did you ever watch Star Trek?" _

_Gaping for a moment, I try to understand the seemingly random change of topic, hiding my frustration that he completely ignored my question. "A few of the movies, but not the show."_

_"Did you see the one where Spock dies?" _

_"Umm, a long time ago I think. Why?" _

_"He sacrificed himself for the ship. It's a classic line. The good of the many outweigh the good of the one, or something to that effect."_

_"Yeah, I think I remember that scene," I answer still trying to connect his jumbled words. _

_"I've been thinking about whether that theory is true." _

_"I don't think you can debate whether or not it's true, but I imagine most people struggle with making that type of choice," I theorize watching him closely for any type of reaction. _

_"Do you think you could sacrifice yourself?"_

_"I'd like to think so, but I guess I wouldn't really know until I was faced with the situation."_

_"Yeah, I guess not." Edward lifts his head skyward, maybe searching for whatever answers he's trying to find. _

_We sit quietly for several more minutes. He seems lost; a sharp change from the confident man I know and love. Suddenly he turns to face me. "I...I don't…" he pauses struggling for words. _

_Edward opens his mouth to speak again, when something over my shoulder catches his attention, his eyes narrowing. Glancing back, I can't see anything but shadows. "What?" I ask, watching as Edward continues to scan the beach. _

_"Nothing. I thought I saw something. We should go."_

_"Edward, you're scaring me."_

_Caressing my face, he leans in to give me a tender kiss. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm just being stupid. Come on, let's get you back home before you freeze." _

_He stands and offers me his hand. After carefully readjusting the blanket, he swings his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to kiss my temple. We walk wordlessly to the car, his hand rubbing my arm to warm me._

_When he opens the passenger door, I reach up and gently turn his face towards me. "Hey," I say trying to get his attention. "I love you. I don't know what's going on, but I'm here, whenever you're ready." _

_He nods his head, reaching around to pull me into a bone-crushing hug. I temper my increasing concern by reminding myself that this is Edward. We are stronger than whatever is happening. _

* * *

><p>Once again, a long ago conversation takes on a new meaning. After he left, through the haze of my anger, I concluded our middle of the night trip was his way of working through the fact that he wanted to leave. Convincing myself that his actions were just a part of his tangled lies, and until now, I didn't care about the details of what he was trying to say.<p>

With hindsight, the memory provides yet one more piece of the puzzle that Edward is revealing. His claims of not wanting to leave certainly fit with his behavior that night, more so than Sam's claims that he is using me.

My pulse speeds up as the picture of Riley and Edward flashes through my mind again. "Auughh!" I roar, hitting my hand against the steering wheel. "Pull it together, Swan." If I'm going find the truth, I need to examine everything objectively. I can't do that if I allow my emotions to get in the way.

Taking a calming breath, I focus on maneuvering my car carefully along the twisty one lane road leading to Ben's cabin. The headlights are the only source of light, brightening a narrow path in middle of what feels like infinite darkness. Pressing the brakes again, the car almost crawls around a particularly sharp turn, my lead foot tamed by the unknowns of this treacherous road. On the plus side, my nervousness about driving over a cliff keeps me sharp and aware even though exhaustion set in long ago. Ben's stated "couple hour" drive was really, by distance, a four-hour drive. However, the timing of my journey couldn't have been worse, so four quickly became six with rush hour traffic.

I glance at my phone, checking the progress of the dot moving along the screen. Thankfully, it's finally silent; if it weren't for the GPS, I would have shut it off long ago. As soon as Emmett received my text, it started vibrating continually with calls and texts from my concerned friends. The only one who's been conspicuously quiet is Sam, who has either not been informed of my absence or is simply silent in his anger. Neither of which I can muster the strength to care about right now.

I spoke briefly to Emmett, Jasper, and Rose, giving them a vague excuse about needing to get away. It seemed like the most plausible explanation, especially since my administrative leave and being released from the watchful eyes of my security detail provided the perfect opportunity of timing. When they held to their concerns, I threw in that getting away while the second suspect is still on the loose is probably the safest thing to do.

Although, I pride myself on being a quick thinker in the courtroom, I never thought I would use the trait to deceive my friends. Nevertheless, when pressed for information, I told them I was heading up the coast, blatantly spinning a tale about looking for a sleepy town where I could crash. I hate lying, but it's for their own good, and when it comes to Ben's anonymity, I have no choice.

The long drive provided nothing but time to think about everything. The majority of it spent analyzing the conflicting information about who Edward is and why he returned. I've avoided speaking with him directly, although I could hear him in the background when I talked with Emmett, the desperation in his voice palpable. The implications of that picture should mark the end of Edward's chances with me, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something else going on.

Of course, my father is a whole other complicated layer. The father I knew, the man who believed in justice above all else, would not get rid of evidence. He would not take a bribe. The only way I can remotely wrap my mind around it, is if he did it to protect me, as Edward and Sam suggested. If that is the case, I need Ben to help me find whoever is holding the strings quickly. Make no mistake; I will make them pay for my dad's murder, no matter who it is.

Hitting a large and jagged pothole, the car suddenly jerks, yanking me away from my musings. Ben was not kidding about being off the grid. This place is miles from any main road, well hidden within the Eldorado National Forest. I shouldn't have expected anything different; it is always an adventure to meet up with him. Although he owns a couple of houses, Ben is a drifter by trade, bouncing between different cities and continents, never staying in one place for long.

Turing another corner, I finally spot the address I'm looking for branded on a small wooden post. Pulling onto the long driveway, the road narrows even further. After another minute of driving around curves and over a hill, the house finally comes into view. Shocked by the sight, I slam on the brakes causing a small cloud of billowy dust to float past the window as I take in the cabin in front of me. It's as if I've walked into the scene of a horror movie and at any moment, a man in a hockey mask is going to step out of the darkness and chase me with a machete.

The headlights of the car accentuate the faded and weathered wood of the small cabin. A crumbling sidewalk leads to a dilapidated porch, the stairs warped and uneven, while the overgrown yard is speckled with fallen pinecones and broken branches. If it weren't for the soft light coming out of the side window, I would swear the thing was abandoned long ago.

"This can't be right." I whisper, convinced I took a wrong turn somewhere. Double-checking my directions, light suddenly spills out onto the porch as the door opens and Ben steps out with a big grin.

"You made it," he yells, although his voice sounds muffled through the windshield.

Rolling down the window, I lean my head out. "What's with the condemned house?"

"It's not condemned, it's rustic," he says proudly.

"I got to be honest, I'm a little afraid to get out of the car."

"When did you become such a wilting flower?" Ben admonishes with a smile. "Get over here."

Shutting off the car, I step out and walk towards him with a smile of my own. As usual, Ben's appearance is a surprise. He's had a different style every time we've met, but this one has me particularly perplexed. Although Ben is in his mid-thirties, at first glance anyone would assume that he's in his early twenties. He's wearing a black retro Rolling Stone tee shirt over a long sleeved grey shirt; both hang over the waist of his dark skinny jeans. A black knitted hat sits snuggly on his head covering his overgrown brown hair. Standing with his arms crossed and shoulders slightly hunched, his tall body appears almost scrawny, however, I know underneath his shirts are toned and well-trained muscles. I have no doubt that every aspect of his appearance and stance is purposeful. Ben always knows exactly what he's doing and is a master at blending in.

"I thought maybe you changed your mind."

"Yeah, well _someone _needs to improve on their travel time estimations. A couple of hours my ass," I tease walking into his waiting arms.

"I'm glad you came."

"So am I." Just being here gives me a sense of relief. "What's with the college boy look? Trying to date under your age group?"

"What?" he asks stepping back with his arms open wide. "You don't think I can pull it off?"

"No, you're totally pulling it off, that's the scary part. I suppose you can't tell me why."

"Nope, you know the rules, it's better if you don't know the details. I'll just say though that blending in with the ski crowd is exhausting," he says with a sly wink waving me through the door.

"Ski crowd, interesting," I quip, looking around the cabin.

The inside is a complete contrast to the outside. The wood walls look well maintained and are a nice contrast to the chocolate-colored carpet. There is a fire roaring in the hearth in the corner of the living room providing the cabin with a cozy glow. Across from the door, resides a tiny kitchen with expensive looking appliances, including a fancy looking coffeemaker. To the left there is a narrow hallway leading to I assume the bathroom and bedroom.

Ben's "office" is set up across from the living room. There is a large oak desk with two computer monitors and a keyboard. A wire shelf stands next to it, stuffed with various other electronic equipment from cameras, speakers, extra monitors and other high tech devices I can't quite identify. I'm sure the equipment in that corner alone cost more than this entire cabin.

"What do you think?"

"It's nice. What's the, umm, bed situation?" I ask hesitantly suddenly wondering how this is going to work in such a small space.

"You don't mind sharing, right?" he asks waggling his eyebrows.

I glance back alarmed. "Is that my only option?"

"It's not like I can take that tiny thing," he says pointing to the small couch in front of the fireplace. "I mean look at me. There's no way I'd fit on that shit."

"Now who's being the delicate flower?" I ask with a raise of my eyebrow. "But seriously, I can take floor."

"Don't worry, there are two bedrooms down the hallway," he says laughing. "I just couldn't resist giving you a hard time. Do you really think I'd invite you here without having a place for you to sleep?"

"Maybe-e," I stammer embarrassed.

"I'm hurt, Justice, I really am." Ben shakes his head, but I can see the twinkle in his eyes. "You want something to eat?" he asks walking over to the kitchen.

"I had dinner on the road, but I would love some tea if you have any."

"Yup. Black, green, herbal, what's your poison?"

"Herbal would be great."

Ben places a teapot on the stove, masterfully lighting the burner with a match. After reaching into the overhead cabinet to take out a mug, he pulls a teabag out of a canister on the counter and places it in the cup. "How is everyone taking your departure?"

"They think I've lost my mind. Who knows maybe I have." I sit on one of the chairs surrounding the table next from the kitchen, watching him work.

Ben stops what he's doing and looks up. "Bullshit! Don't start second-guessing yourself now. You've been through hell the last few days. Fuck 'em if they don't understand that."

I smile at his no bullshit manner. "You're right. I need to do this. I'm tired of being on the defensive."

"Damn straight. It's time to kick some ass," he proclaims as the kettle starts to whistle. Turning quickly he takes it off the stove.

"You sure you want to get on this crazy train with me?"

After pouring the water into the cup and bringing it over, he sits in the chair across from me with a serious look. "I know we don't have a traditional friendship, but over the last two plus years, you've wormed your way into my inner circle. That means, my dear, that you have an ally for life. And for the record, everyone needs someone in their corner. Don't let all this other shit convince you any different."

"I won't," I promise him. "Not anymore."

"Good!" He smiles, the edge of earlier fading away. "What should we do now? Do you what to start hitting it tonight or are you too tired?"

"Let's get started. I don't want to waste any more time." Exhaustion will just have to wait.

Nodding his head, Ben gets up and walks over to his desk to grab a stack of neatly organized papers. Sitting back down, he flips through them quietly for a moment. "So, I started with the infamous bank account," he says taking one of the papers and handing it to me.

"What am I looking at?" Lines of what looks like computer code fills the top portion of the page.

"That shows the trail of the account. It was set up electronically. The notes in the case file claim that detectives connected it to your dad's IP address, which is that number right here," he says pointing to the top of the page.

My shoulders slump, "This kind of evidence is a prosecutor's dream," I comment looking down at the paper again.

"Hey," Ben says getting my attention. "Do you believe your dad did this?"

"No, I just…I just can't."

"Then I don't either. The evidence is strong, but the digital world is tricky. Luckily, for you, I know the ins and outs better than most. I'll find a crack, don't worry."

"Thank you," I say gratefully. He's one of the few who has supported my dad's innocence without adding a clarifier. "Wait, did you say case file? How do you know what the notes say?"

Ben looks up with a sly grin. "Any means possible, remember."

"You hacked into Seattle's PD's files."

"Yup. From what I can gather, the money that was deposited came from a supposed untraceable off-shore account."

"So we can't track its origin."

"That's why I said 'supposed'. Everything leaves a trail. It is just a matter of how hard you need to look."

"Another crack?" I ask.

Ben nods his head with a smirk. "Exactly."

"How about the dates Sam mentioned?"

"The file on your dad does show a connection between evidence going missing and payments."

"Another slam dunk," I mutter looking at things through a prosecutor's eyes. Between the IP address and payments, I would be willing to take a case like this to court without any concerns.

Ben leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "But that's what bothers me. It's too clean."

"What are you thinking?"

"For one, why set up a local account in the first place?" Leaning forward again, he turns over one of the papers and grabs a pen doodling out a few figures, to emphasize his point that their theory doesn't connect. Ben always thinks better in pictures. "Here I am, a detective working for a criminal Kingpin, but I'm stupid enough to set up a basic 'e-trades' type account that I know any first year detective would check for. Why wouldn't I set up an off-shore account too?" Ben hypothesizes, twirling the pencil around his fingers.

I process his words looking at his scribbled chart. "That's a good point." My dad wasn't stupid and he was a veteran cop. As much as it turns my stomach to think about him turning dirty, he definitely wouldn't be stupid about it if he went that route.

"And secondly, he never checked it."

"What?" I ask incredulously.

"The account was never accessed until the cops requested information on it." Focusing again on the paper, he starts another rough figure. "For practical purpose, let's set aside the stupidity of how it was set up. Wouldn't you at least check it to make sure your money went through before you did another job?"

"But wait, he did access it. Sam said he took out just enough to cover his bills."

Ben looks up the paper, confusion flashing across his face before it turns into a frown. "Sam's wrong. There's no evidence of any activity, let alone a withdrawal."

"What if someone just covered it up? You know, tried to clean things up after his death." I'm trying to contain my excitement, I know exactly what Ben is implying, but to prove my dad's innocence we need to explore every possibility. Which means, as much as I hate it, I need to take the devil's advocate role right now.

"I'm sure about him not taking out any money. The daily balance of the account never changed. As for covering up that he checked it? It would be difficult, but not impossible." Before I can ask another question, he holds up his hand to stop me. "But before we get too far down that 'what if' road, let's be realistic, if Riley was trying to cover up that your dad was on his payroll, they would have just erased the whole fucking account."

Feeling vindicated, I can't stop the teeth-revealing grin that breaks out on my face. "He was set up."

"That's what my gut tells me. I need to find those cracks to prove it, but just give me some time and we'll nail these sons of bitches."

"The IP address will still be difficult to explain."

"I have some theories, but let me check a couple of things out before I share, okay."

Nodding my head, I can't stop smiling. "You have no idea how relieved I am. In my heart, I knew it, but every day something else proved me wrong. I felt like I was going crazy."

"Don't get too excited yet, we still have a long road ahead of us."

"I know, but it gives me something to hold onto again. I'd thought I lost that today."

Ben gives me a knowing grin. "Just call me Ben Cheney, Restorer of Faith! I think I deserve a cape or something," he jokes standing up to hold his hands on his hips while sticking out his chest.

"And with that move, Mr. Restorer is asked never to return to the superhero clubhouse," I remark with a sarcastic tone.

"That's harsh, Justice" He pouts sitting back down. "Fine, back to business. Now, what about this picture?"

Getting up, I go over to my pile of stuff by the door and pull out the picture. "Here," I say quietly giving it to Ben. "Sam gave me that today. It's Edward and Riley. He says it was buried in my dad's desk."

Ben stares at it for a while. "What an interesting twist to this convoluted party." Looking at me, he holds the picture up. "I take it this doesn't fit with previous conversations."

"No. Edward claims he doesn't really know Riley. And then why my dad would have it…" I pause to take a breath. "I just don't know what to think."

Ben looks down at the picture again. "Well, forgive me if I don't take anything that Sam says as gospel. That little bit of misinformation about your dad's account just reinforces my initial instinct to investigate him. How did you get him to leave this with you?"

"I kicked him out after he showed it to me. He was upset when I asked him to leave, so I think he just forgot to ask for it back."

Ben looks up again. "Don't you find it strange that he would be upset enough to leave important evidence behind just because you asked him to go? What kind of relationship do you have with him anyway?"

"Friends, I guess," Ben shoots me a disbelieving look. "The truth is I haven't known him long. We hit it off when we first met, but things have been crazy since I found my dad's journal."

"Hmmm, the journal he still has a copy of right," he states cryptically looking down at the picture again. "Hold on a second."

Jumping up, he walks over to his desk pulling out a large magnifying glass with a light.

"What?" I ask following him.

"I'm not sure. Do you mind if I hang onto this?" He continues to look at the picture closely through the magnifying glass.

"Of course not." I watch him hoping for a clue about what he's thinking, but he gives nothing away.

"Thanks," he utters, placing it on his desk. Turning to face me, he leans against his desk, crossing his arms. "You look worn out."

"Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"Just calling it like I see it. When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"I honestly don't even know," I admit honestly.

"Then it's time for bed. This not taking care of yourself shit stops now. You can't take the offensive if you're on your last leg."

"Yes, Sir," I joke with a mock salute.

"You jest, but seriously, we can deal with the rest of this tomorrow."

"You're right, I sh…" My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, distracting me from my train of thought. Taking it out, I see two messages from Emmett, the first just a phone number, the second an explanation.

_This is Edward's number. He's losing his mind a bit. Can you give him a call? You don't need to say much, he just wants to hear your voice, that's it._

I stare at the phone until the screen goes black again. Feeling the extra security of distance, I'm tempted to call and probe for more information.

"Anything going on?" Ben asks watching me carefully.

"Edward wants me to call."

"The guy's certainly persistent, I'll give him that. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to call and get some answers," I respond still looking at the phone.

"Damn straight! Take control, Justice."

"Damn straight!" I repeat grabbing my coat.

"Umm, I said call. Where are you going?"

"Outside for a little privacy."

"Oh sure. Take my only source of entertainment away. I was just about to pop me some popcorn too," he mocks.

"Hardy har har." I give him a playful shove, before heading to the door.

"Bella," he calls out. "I'm probably going to hit the sack in a couple of minutes. The guest room is on the left. Everything you need should be there."

"Okay."

"Not to sound like your mother, but don't stay out too long. You need sleep. Remember? We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow."

"I won't."

"We're going to figure this out," he says with conviction. "I promise."

It's funny, I've heard those words a lot recently, but this is the first time I don't feel the heaviness of uncertainty when they are said. "I finally believe that," I say with a smile before walking out the door.

Sitting on the porch, I inhale the smell of pine and fresh air. The wind has picked up; the clouds hiding the stars and the moon leaving the forest shrouded in darkness. I wonder if we're in for a storm. It's still a little early in the season, but the temperature feels like it is dipping low enough to produce snow if the clouds decide to open up.

Looking at my phone, I mentally rehearse what I want to say. I need to play this smart. At this point, I think confronting him directly about the photo is not to my benefit. I want to see what he does if given a little bit of rope. His answers will make sense or he'll hang himself, either way, I'll have the upper hand. Taking a breath, I hit the number in the text.

"Hello?" Edward's anxious voice answers.

"Hi,"

"Bella," he sighs in relief. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"What did Sam do?" The hostility drips from his rushed words.

"Why do you think that Sam did anything?"

"I highly doubt it's a coincidence that you left after having your little chat with him."

"I just needed to get away. I felt suffocated," I answer dancing around the truth.

"I don't buy it. It's not like you to make a rash decision."

"It wasn't rash. I believe that I'm free to come and go as I please," I growl. I get that he's worried, but he hasn't earn the right to question me on any of my choices.

"But—"

"Edward, I didn't call to get a lecture. Either let it go or hang up because I don't want to argue about it."

"Just promise me you're being careful."

"I am. No need to worry."

"I told you before that's impossible," he says quietly. "Besides, I don't like the way he looks at you."

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Sam. There is something off in his eyes. You can't trust him."

"I can take care of myself."

"And yet you ran off."

"Edward," I warn. "Why did you want me to call?"

"To hear your voice," he whispers. "I needed to hear for myself that you're okay."

"I don't know what to say," I say sadly.

"Anything or nothing. It doesn't matter," he sighs, his own sadness drifting through the phone.

We are quiet for a few seconds; the only sound is our synchronized breaths. "You know what I hated the most about traveling?" he asks breaking the silence.

"What?" I lean carefully against a post of the railing, hoping that it holds my body weight. I have a feeling this conversation is going to take longer than I expected.

"The differences in the night sky."

"Why?"

"You know the cliché that no matter where you go, you can look up and know the people you love are looking at the same sky."

"Yeah," I whisper, trying, as in most of our recent conversations, to connect his scattered thoughts.

"Well, that not's necessarily true, especially in the southern hemisphere."

"As any first year astronomy student will tell you," I retort, my patience worn long ago.

"I know it's trite and stupid, but it's funny the things you hold onto when everything else is falling apart," he continues, ignoring my snarky remark. "I was in Australia one day when it hit me that you weren't looking at the same sky. It was like a blow. I'd never felt as alone as I did in that moment."

My heart swells at his sentimental words, a million thoughts flashing through my head. However, instead of allowing myself to get distracted, I focus instead on the question that will get me more information. "How long were you in Australia?"

"About a month. I was finalizing a business transaction that went sideways."

"What made it go sideways?"

"Outside forces." His words are chopped and tense.

"Like Riley Biers?" I ask throwing out a hook.

The phone is silent for several seconds before he answers. "No. Different outside forces."

"But you've gone against him in business dealings before."

"Yes, a few times."

"Tell me more about him," I request, digging for evidence.

Edward breathes out a long sigh. "What do you want to know?"

"How often did you have contact with him?" I can hear myself emotionally distancing from the questions, almost envisioning Edward in a witness chair.

"Not often," he answers slowly.

"What does that mean? Twice a year? Once a month? What?" Unlike in an actual courtroom, I'm asking more open-ended questions, but it's purposeful and necessary. I want to see where he takes the leeway.

"Where is this coming from?"

"I'm just curious. Did you see him at meetings or alone?"

"We probably ran into each other every couple of months, sometimes for meetings, sometimes alone. None of our interactions were friendly. I admit that I liked being able to beat him out on business transactions. He's such a righteous asshole, so knocking him down a few pegs felt good."

"Ever meet on a pier?" I blurt out, my prosecutor brain automatically leading me down the road of detailed questions.

The line is silent for a bit. "That's specific," he says quietly. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm just trying to figure everything out. I don't fully understand your relationship to him."

"I don't _have _a relationship with him," he barks.

"But there's more than what you've told me, right?"

The line falls silent again before he answers. "Yes," he says roughly.

"And what does 'yes' exactly mean, Edward. Meeting for drinks, bowling, a good game of paint ball?" I ask sarcastically, the cool air a sudden and welcome contrast to the heat of my skin.

"Don't be ridiculous. High stakes business is like chess, Bella. It's all about tactics and analyzing the big picture. Biers is scum, but I interacted with him as a part of a larger strategy. Did I like it? No, but that's the game." The volume of his words vibrates the speaker leaving nothing but his ragged breaths when the words run out.

There's merit to his explanation, but he hasn't revealed his end game. Is it really for some greater good or something more insidious? "Are you playing now?"

"Of course not! You never were nor will ever be a _game_ to me, Bella."

"Do you know what happened to my dad?"

"What?" he asks with a rising octave. "No!" I didn't even know about him until you told me. Why would you ask me that?"

"Just trying to put the pieces together," I say blatantly.

"Bella…" he trails off, "I can only assume that Sam said something to you to place these seeds of doubt in your head. But, I swear to you I know nothing about your dad and if I did, I would have told you."

"I want to believe that," I admit, my non-emotional façade fading away with his emotional conviction.

"What can I do?"

"Give me time."

"Okay," Edward says resigned.

"I should go. It's been a long day." Although I'm using it as an excuse, the statement is no less true.

"Yeah, it's late. You should get some sleep," he says, the emotion still thick in his voice. "Make sure to keep your door locked, and don't open it for anyone."

"Don't worry. I'm safe."

"Just stay that way. I love you."

"Good night," I whisper back before hanging up.

The words Edward probably wants to hear in return almost slip from my lips out of habit. I can't seem to keep my emotions in check with him no matter how much distance is between us. Although it's insanely frustrating to have Edward revealing things so slowly, his explanations remain consistent. I can only hope that whatever Ben saw in that picture sheds some more light on this situation. The quicker I know, the quicker I can deal with Edward.

Walking back into the living room, I grab my things still lying in a pile by the door and make my way to the back of the cabin. After cleaning up in the bathroom, I open a squeaky door to a tiny bedroom with just enough room for a twin bed and a small dresser. My body almost sags in relief at the sight of the bed. It looks incredibly inviting covered in a heavy homemade quilt and topped with fluffy pillow. Peeling out of my clothes and slipping into pajamas, I snuggle under the covers, my tired body sinking into the mattress. Tonight, sleep will come quickly.

**RL continues to keep me jumping, so I will see you again in two weeks. Up next: Bella has a plan. **


End file.
